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1 36 MODERN GAELIC BARDS.
Wild flower, that so sweet did grow,
Loved little May !
Like glimpse of the sunny glow,
In mild morning rising low,
Such brightness thy face did show.
Lost little May !
Oh, the deep love I gave thee.
My own little May!
Oh, could it not save thee.
My choice little May!
How thy hair like the sunbeam,
Thy cheek like my heart's stream.
Rejoiced my last flattering dream,
Dear little May!
Through the world I could roam away.
Loved little May!
To meet thee some distant day,
Dear little May!
I could run, I could leap then
As the deer of the mountain glen
Bounds through the flashing fen,
Choice little May!
Curs'd be thy kinsmen's spite,
Sweet little May !
That forbade me thy love — thy sight,
Dear little May!
But were their love as mine is, dear!
Oh ! ne'er had I languish'd here,
Wringing this bitter tear,
Bright little May!
Yet now were I safe from death.
Dear little May!
Cumbrous would be my breath,
Sweet little May !

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