Song Of The Nubian Girl.

A poem by Thomas Moore

O Abyssinian tree,
We pray, we pray to thee;
By the glow of thy golden fruit
And the violet hue of the flower,
And the greeting mute
Of thy boughs' salute
To the stranger who seeks thy bow.

O Abyssinian tree!
How the traveller blesses thee
When the light no moon allows,
And the sunset hour is near,
And thou bend'st thy boughs
To kiss his brows.
Saying, "Come, rest thee here."
O Abyssinian tree!
Thus bow thy head to me!