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Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The read more
Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire;
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing,
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
More matter for a May morning.
More matter for a May morning.
Ah! my heart is weary waiting,
Waiting for the May:
Waiting for the pleasant rambles
read more
Ah! my heart is weary waiting,
Waiting for the May:
Waiting for the pleasant rambles
Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles,
Where the woodbine alternating,
Scent the dewy way;
Ah! my heart is weary, waiting,
Waiting for the May.
Who first beholds the light of day
In Spring's sweet flowery month of May
And wears an read more
Who first beholds the light of day
In Spring's sweet flowery month of May
And wears an Emerald all her life,
Shall be a loved and happy wife.
Oh! that we two were Maying
Down the stream of the soft spring breeze;
Like children with read more
Oh! that we two were Maying
Down the stream of the soft spring breeze;
Like children with violets playing,
In the shade of the whispering trees.
Hebe's here, May is here!
The air is fresh and sunny;
And the miser-bees are busy
read more
Hebe's here, May is here!
The air is fresh and sunny;
And the miser-bees are busy
Hoarding golden honey.
Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens read more
Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on.
O month when they who love must love and wed.
O month when they who love must love and wed.
There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury,
exceeds her as much in beauty as the read more
There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury,
exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last
of December.