The East Indian.
By Thomas Moore
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.
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"Come, May, with all thy flowers,..."
This evocative piece by Thomas Moore, titled "The East Indian.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...