Remember Thee - Бесплатная аудиокнига

THE EAST INDIAN.

Come, May, with all thy flowers,
  Thy sweetly-scented thorn,
Thy cooling evening showers,
  The 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's winging
  Thro' watery wilds her way,
And on her cheek is bringing
  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 blest with endless light,
With zephyrs always playing
  Thro' gardens always bright.
Then now, sweet May! be sweeter
  Than e'er, thou'st been before;
Let sighs from roses meet her
  When she comes near our shore.