January

  Hail, January, that bearest here
  On snowbright breasts the babe-faced year
  That weeps and trembles to be born.
  Hail, maid and mother, strong and bright,
  Hooded and cloaked and shod with white,
  Whose eyes are stars that match the morn.
  Thy forehead braves the storm's bent bow,
  Thy feet enkindle stars of snow.


  February

  Wan February with weeping cheer,
  Whose cold hand guides the youngling year
  Down misty roads of mire and rime,
  Before thy pale and fitful face
  The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace
  Through skies the morning scarce may climb.
  Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears,
  But lit with hopes that light the year's.


  March

  Hail, happy March, whose foot on earth
  Rings as the blast of martial mirth
  When trumpets fire men's hearts for fray.
  No race of wild things winged or finned
  May match the might that wings thy wind
  Through air and sea, through scud and spray.
  Strong joy and thou were powers twin-born
  Of tempest and the towering morn.


  April

  Crowned April, king whose kiss bade earth
  Bring forth to time her lordliest birth
  When Shakespeare from thy lips drew breath
  And laughed to hold in one soft hand
  A spell that bade the world's wheel stand,
  And power on life, and power on death,
  With quiring suns and sunbright showers
  Praise him, the flower of all thy flowers.


  May

  Hail, May, whose bark puts forth full-sailed
  For summer; May, whom Chaucer hailed
  With all his happy might of heart,
  And gave thy rosebright daisy-tips
  Strange fragrance from his amorous lips
  That still thine own breath seems to part
  And sweeten till each word they say
  Is even a flower of flowering May.


  June

  Strong June, superb, serene, elate
  With conscience of thy sovereign state
  Untouched of thunder, though the storm
  Scathe here and there thy shuddering skies
  And bid its lightning cross thine eyes
  With fire, thy golden hours inform
  Earth and the souls of men with life
  That brings forth peace from shining strife.


  July

  Hail, proud July, whose fervent mouth
  Bids even be morn and north be south
  By grace and gospel of thy word,
  Whence all the splendour of the sea
  Lies breathless with delight in thee
  And marvel at the music heard
  From the ardent silent lips of noon
  And midnight's rapturous plenilune.


  August

  Great August, lord of golden lands,
  Whose lordly joy through seas and strands
  And all the red-ripe heart of earth
  Strikes passion deep as life, and stills
  The folded vales and folding hills
  With gladness too divine for mirth,
  The gracious glories of thine eyes
  Make night a noon where darkness dies.


  September

  Hail, kind September, friend whose grace
  Renews the bland year's bounteous face
  With largess given of corn and wine
  Through many a land that laughs with love
  Of thee and all the heaven above,
  More fruitful found than all save thine
  Whose skies fulfil with strenuous cheer
  The fervent fields that knew thee near.


  October

  October of the tawny crown,
  Whose heavy-laden hands drop down
  Blessing, the bounties of thy breath
  And mildness of thy mellowing might
  Fill earth and heaven with love and light
  Too sweet for fear to dream of death
  Or memory, while thy joy lives yet,
  To know what joy would fain forget.


  November

  Hail, soft November, though thy pale
  Sad smile rebuke the words that hail
  Thy sorrow with no sorrowing words
  Or gratulate thy grief with song
  Less bitter than the winds that wrong
  Thy withering woodlands, where the birds
  Keep hardly heart to sing or see
  How fair thy faint wan face may be.


  December

  December, thou whose hallowing hands
  On shuddering seas and hardening lands
  Set as a sacramental sign
  The seal of Christmas felt on earth
  As witness toward a new year's birth
  Whose promise makes thy death divine,
  The crowning joy that comes of thee
  Makes glad all grief on land or sea.