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[SONG. My own Maria! dearest maid]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


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[SONG. My own Maria! dearest maid]

My own Maria! dearest maid,
Oh! listen and arise!
The midnight air that sought thy bed
Was freighted with my sighs.
Ten thousand dewy blossoms deck
The zephyr-shaken tree,
The lily strains her tender neck,
To mingle breaths with thee.
The orient is rosy gay,
The warbler quits her nest,
And gloomy night-mists only stay
In my hope-sickened breast
Come! though my locks are wet with dews
That trickling cold remain,
Look on my cheek without its hues,
And they'll return again.
I will not tell thee what a night
'Tis thou hast caused, my bride—
But! bless me with thy blue-eye's light,
I'll think on naught beside.