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From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 46 Behold, the young, the rosy Spring, Gives to the breeze her scented wing; While virgin Graces, warm with May, Fling roses o’er her dewy way. The murmuring billows of the deep Have languish’d into silent sleep; And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave Their plumes in the reflecting wave; While cranes from hoary winter fly To flutter in a kinder sky. Now the genial star of day Dissolves the murky clouds away; And cultured field, and winding stream, Are freshly glittering in his beam. Now the earth prolific swells, With leafy buds and flowery bells; Gemming shoots the olive twine, Clusters ripe festoon the vine; All along the branches creeping, Through the velvet foliage peeping, Little infant fruits we see, Nursing into luxury. Thomas Moore's other poems:
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