The Months by Sara Coleridge
January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daises at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy damns.
Hot july brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
Warm september brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.