This is the month, and this the happy morn,
  Wherein the Son of heaven’s eternal king,
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
  Our great redemption from above did bring—
  For so the holy sages once did sing—
That He our deadly forfeit should release,...

Poet: John Milton

Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May! that doth inspire
Mirth and youth and warm desire;...

Poet: John Milton