February brings the rain,

Thaws the frozen lake again.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

January brings the snow,

makes our feet and fingers glow.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

Chill December brings the sleet,

Blazing fire, and Christmas treat. 

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

Dull November brings the blast,

Then the leaves are whirling fast.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

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Fresh October brings the pheasants,

Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

Warm September brings the fruit;

Sportsmen then begin to shoot.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

August brings the sheaves of corn,

Then the harvest home is borne.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

Hot July brings cooling showers,

Apricots and gillyflowers.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,

Fills the children’s hand with posies.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

May brings flocks of pretty lambs,

Skipping by their fleecy dams.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

April brings the primrose sweet,

Scatters daises at our feet.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge

March brings breezes loud and shrill,

stirs the dancing daffodil.

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from ‘The Garden Year’ by Sarah Coleridge