Mystical Order of the White Rose Newsletter

Each day we should expose ourselves to the inspiration of others. Thousands of saints and wise men and women have left us messages of hope and encouragement. Read what is honest. Read the scriptures and the commentaries. Read great literature and poetry. Read the psalms. Read that which expresses the anguish and the exhilaration of experience, and teaches us that we are not alone.

- John McQuiston II, p. 88, Always We Begin Again--The Benedictine Way of Living

A general compilation of quotations for Gardeners, Walkers, and Lovers of the Green Way on the subjects of: May and Spring. It includes: Poems, Quotes, Sayings, Folklore, Myths, Customs, Holidays, Traditions, Celebrations, Sayings, Poetry, Quips, References, Links, Ideas, Gardening Chores.

The night of the 30th of April and the 1st of May is celebrated by two Pagan traditions. The Celtic festival of Beltane (or Beltaine) and the Germanic celebration of Walpurgisnacht are both observed between 30th April and 1st May. May begins with a day sacred to Maia, the goddess who gave her name to this month. In ancient Rome it was the month of the Lemuria and Rosalia festivals, amongst others. Pagans celebrate Beltane with maypole dances, symbolizing the mystery of the Sacred Marriage of Goddess and God.

You can find a very thorough and very international description of the history and origins of May Day here.

The Etymology of the word Beltane

Bale-Fire

Beltane derives from the Irish Beáltaine or Scottish Gaelic Bealtuinn; both from Old Irish Beltene "bright fire" from belo-te(p)niâ), where belo- is allied to the English word bale (as in bale-fire), the Anglo-Saxon bael, and also the Lithuanian baltas, meaning "white" or "shining" from which the Baltic takes its name.

In Gaelic the terminal vowel -o (from Belo) was dropped, as shown by numerous other transformations from early or Proto-Celtic to Early Irish, thus the Gaulish god-names Belenos ("bright one") and his partner Belisama. Belenos was probably the same divinity, originally from belo-nos "our shining one", is also from the same source, as was Shakespeare's Cym-beline.

From the same Proto-Celtic roots we get a wide range of other words: the verb beothaich, from Early Celtic belo-thaich (to kindle, light, revive, or re-animate); baos, from Baelos (shining); beòlach (ashes with hot embers), from beò (originally belo) + luathach, "shiny-ashes" or "live-ashes".

Metaphorically a beolach was also a shining youth or a lively youth, a hero, beò-lach or belo-lach; for -lach (youth). Similarly boil, boile came from "fiery madness", through Irish buile, Early Irish baile: and boillsg (gleam); bolg-s-cio-; related to Latin fulgeo, "shine", English effulgent, Lithuanian blizgù, glance, shine, English blink (where the shine causes eyes to shut), Proto-Indo-European bhleg -> fulgeo (Grimms' Law). In this way the Celtic tribe of Belgae in Northern France from which Belgium today takes its name, may derive from the same root. One of its tribes was called the Bellovaci. Some have suggested that the Ancient Irish "Fir Bolg" (i.e. "the Shining Ones") of Celtic mythology may have derived from the same word.

The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees breing forth fruit nd flourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart that is in any manner a lover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giventh unto all lovers courage, that lusty month of May.

What is so sweet and dear
As a prosperous morn in May,
The confidant prime of the day,
And the dauntless youth of the year,
When nothing that asks for bliss,
Asking aright, is denied,
And half of the world a bridegroom is
And half of the world a bride?

Maiwein (May Wine) is a German drink, dedicated to springtime and flavored with fresh Waldmeister (sweet woodruff). Maiwein, a white wine, imported from Germany, can be found in stores. Waldmeister is a fragrant herb, a small plant with white blossoms. In Germany it grows in the forests. However, the variety which grows wild is not usable for flavoring. This decorative plant may be grown in a shady corner of a herb garden. It should be used for flavoring only in May when the new leaves are tender. Cut up and soaked in the wine, it will produce the distinctive May Wine taste. This information, and recipes for making May Wine are available on this website.

Prayer is hindered by too little light and by too much. He who neither sees his sins nor confesses them is not illumined with light. But he for whom his sins loom so large that he despairs of forgiveness, is drowned in light. Neither of these prays. What follows from this? The light must be gentle.

The young May moon is beaming, love.
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love.
How sweet to rove,
Through Morna's grove,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
Then awake! -- the heavens look bright, my dear,
'Tis never too late for delight, my dear,
And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

For me prayer is an aspiration of the heart, it is a simple glance directed to heaven, it is a cry of gratitude and love in the midst of trial as well as joy. Finally, it is something which expands my soul and unites me to Jesus.

Your mother lives inside
your laughter. She's crystallized
in every tear drop...

She's the place you came from,
your first home.. She's the map you
follow with every step that you take.

She's your first love and your first heart
break....and nothing on earth can separate you.

Not time, Not space...
Not even death....
will ever separate you
from your mother....

It is a lofty understanding inwardly to see and to know that God, who is our maker, dwells in our soul, and it is a still loftier and greater understanding inwardly to see and to know that our soul, which is created, dwells in God's substance. From this substance we are what we are, by God. I saw no difference between God and our substance, but saw it as if it were all God. And yet my understanding accepted the fact that our substance is in God; that is to say that God is God and our substance is a creature in God. For the Almighty Truth of the Trinity is our Father, for he made us and preserves us in himself; the deep wisdom of the Trinity is our mother, in whom we are enclosed; the lofty goodness of the Trinity is our Lord, and in him we are enclosed and he in us.

My mother, Otelia Curtis Kiteley, died May 12, 2006. Most people called her Telia. Here are the final paragraphs and an excerpt of a poem from taken her obituary, which I wrote.. - Cynthia Kiteley Lee

An active member in the Episcopal Church, the Girl Scouts and the Civil Rights movement (during the late 50s-early 60s in the U.S.), Telia was known for her special tenderness for children and animals. She also assisted the National Institute of Health with research that developed improved treatments for glaucoma.

Telia was an accomplished artist, interior designer and art and antiques collector who loved beauty and created beauty. She especially appreciated paintings, sculpture, antiques, music, poetry and flowers.

She did not simply visit this world; she blazed through it like a meteor or a falling star, lighting up everything in her path. Her bright spirit, passionate nature and intense delight in life blessed all who knew her.

…. And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

Do not think that God will make thee just by a miracle. If He wished a beautiful rose to grow in the stark cold of winter He might do it well, but He doeth not such a thing, for He deemeth it His will that it be done in true order in May after the frost, by dew and many a rainfall ordained and framed to accomplish it.

                          I

Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days,
Why the sweet Spring delays,
And where she hides, -- the dear desire
Of every heart that longs
For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby fire
Of maple-buds along the misty hills,
And that immortal call which fills
The waiting wood with songs?
The snow-drops came so long ago,
It seemed that Spring was near!
But then returned the snow
With biting winds, and all the earth grew sere,
And sullen clouds drooped low
To veil the sadness of a hope deferred:
Then rain, rain, rain, incessant rain
Beat on the window-pane,
Through which I watched the solitary bird
That braved the tempest, buffeted and tossed,
With rumpled feathers, down the wind again.
Oh, were the seeds all lost
When winter laid the wild flowers in their tomb?
I searched their haunts in vain
For blue hepaticas, and trilliums white,
And trailing arbutus, the Spring's delight,
Starring the withered leaves with rosy bloom.
The woods were bare: and every night the frost
To all my longings spoke a silent nay,
And told me Spring was far and far away.
Even the robins were too cold to sing,
Except a broken and discouraged note, --
Only the tuneful sparrow, on whose throat
Music has put her triple finger-print,
Lifted his head and sang my heart a hint, --
"Wait, wait, wait! oh, wait a while for Spring!"

                          II

But now, Carina, what divine amends
For all delay! What sweetness treasured up,
What wine of joy that blends
A hundred flavours in a single cup,
Is poured into this perfect day!
For look, sweet heart, here are the early flowers,
That lingered on their way,
Thronging in haste to kiss the feet of May,
And mingled with the bloom of later hours, --
Anemonies and cinque-foils, violets blue
And white, and iris richly gleaming through
The grasses of the meadow, and a blaze
Of butter-cups and daisies in the field,
Filling the air with praise,
As if a silver chime of bells had pealed!
The frozen songs within the breast
Of silent birds that hid in leafless woods,
Melt into rippling floods
Of gladness unrepressed.
Now oriole and blue-bird, thrush and lark,
Warbler and wren and vireo,
Confuse their music; for the living spark
Of Love has touched the fuel of desire,
And every heart leaps up in singing fire.
It seems as if the land
Were breathing deep beneath the sun's caress,
Trembling with tenderness,
While all the woods expand,
In shimmering clouds of rose and gold and green,
To veil the joys too sacred to be seen.

                        III

Come, put your hand in mine,
True love, long sought and found at last,
And lead me deep into the Spring divine
That makes amends for all the wintry past.
For all the flowers and songs I feared to miss
Arrive with you;
And in the lingering pressure of your kiss
My dreams come true;
And in the promise of your generous eyes
I read the mystic sign
Of joy more perfect made
Because so long delayed,
And bliss enhanced by rapture of surprise.
Ah, think not early love alone is strong;
He loveth best whose heart has learned to wait:
Dear messenger of Spring that tarried long,
You're doubly dear because you come so late.

May Day: A Celebration of MAY DAY

The Etymology of the word Beltane

Bale-Fire