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"She was not old yet. She had just broken into her fifty-second year. Months and months of it were still untouched. June, July, August!"

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[avva.livejournal.com]

Mrs Dalloway?

Ух, не люблю.

[(Anonymous)]

Anita Brookner?

навеяло

[graf-g.livejournal.com]

April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.

June, she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night;
July, she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.

August, die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I'll remember
A love once new has now grown old.