Her manners had not that repose
Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere.
Ut homo est, ita morem geras.
Suit your manner to the man.
Terence—Adelphi. III. 3. 78.
Obsequium amicos, Veritas odium parit.
Obsequiousness begets friends; truth, hatred.
Terence—Andria. I. 1. 41.
MAPLE
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry,
Of bugles going by.
Bliss Cabman—Vagabond Song.
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{{Hoyt quote
| num = 5
| text = That was a day of delight and wonder.
While lying the shade of the maple trees underlie felt the soft breeze at its frolicksome play;
He smelled the sweet odor of newly mown hay.
Thos. Dunn English—Under the Trees.
I mark me how today the maples wear
A look of inward burgeoning, and I feel
Colours I see not in the naked air,
Lance-keen, and with the little blue of steel.
Edward O'Brien—In Late Spring.
MARCH
March. Its tree, Juniper. Its stone, Bloodstone. Its motto, "Courage and strength in
times of danger."
Old Saying.
Ah, March! we know thou art
Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats,
And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!
| author = Helen Hunt Jackson
| work = Verses. March.
Slayer of the winter, art thou here again?
O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer
nigh!
The bitter wind makes not the victory vain,
Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.
William Morris—March. St. 1.
The ides of March are come.
Julius Caesar. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 1.
In fierce March weather
White waves break tether,
And whirled together
At either hand,
Like weeds uplifted,
The tree-trunks rifted
In spars are drifted,
Like foam or sand.
Swinburne—Four Songs of Four Seasons. St.
11.
With rushing winds and gloomy skies
The dark and stubborn Winter dies:
Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries,
Bidding her earliest child arise;
March!
Bayard Taylor—March.
All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call;
It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all;
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,
And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.
| author = Tennyson
| work = The May Queen. Conclusion.
Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.
Whither—March. '
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The Ploughboy is whooping—anon—anon!
There's joy in the mountains:
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone.
Wordsworth—Written in March.
MARIGOLD
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>The marigold, whose courtier's face
Echoes the sun, and doth unlace
Her at his rise, at his full stop
Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop.
John Cleveland—On Phillis Walking Before
Sunrise.
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}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>The marigold abroad her leaves doth spread,
Because the sun's and her power is the same.
Henry Constable—Diana.
| note =
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| page = 494
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>No marigolds yet closed are,
No shadows great appeare.
| author = Herrick
| work = Hespendes. To Daisies. Not to Shut so Soone.
| note =
| topic =
| page = 494
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Open afresh your round of starry folds,
Ye ardent marigolds!
Dry up the moisture from your golden lips.
Keats—I Stood Tiptoe Upon a Little Hill.
The sun-observing marigold.
Quarles—The School of the Heart. Ode XXX. St. 5.
Nor shall the marigold unmentioned die,
Which Acis once found out in Sicily;
She Phoebus loves, and from him draws his hue,
And ever keeps his golden beams in view.
Rapin—In His Latin Poem on Gardens. Trans. by Gardiner in 1706.
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes.
Cymbeline. Act II. Sc. 3. Song. L. 25.
