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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


THE EAST INDIAN by THOMAS MOORE

First Line: COME, MAY, WITH ALL THY FLOWERS
Last Line: WHEN SHE COMES NEAR OUR SHORE.
Subject(s): EAST INDIES;

COME, May, with all thy flowers,
Thy sweetly-scented thorn,
Thy cooling evening showers,
Thy fragrant breath at morn.
When May-flies haunt the willow,
When May-buds tempt the bee,
Then, o'er the shining billow,
My love will come to me.

From Eastern isles, she wingeth
Through watery wiles her way,
And on her cheek she bringeth
The bright sun's orient ray!
Oh! come and court her hither,
Ye breezes mild and warm,
One winter's gale would wither
So soft, so pure a form.

The fields where she was straying
Are bless'd with endless light;
With zephyrs always playing
Through gardens always bright.
Then now, O May! be sweeter
Than e'er thou'st been before,
Let sighs from roses meet her,
When she comes near our shore.



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