Love’s Young Dream

by Thomas Moore English

From “Irish Melodies” O THE DAYS are gone when beauty bright         My heart’s chain wove! When my dream of life, from morn till night,         Was love, still love!         New hope may bloom,         And days may come,   Of milder, calmer beam, But there ’s nothing half so sweet in life   As love’s young dream! O, there ’s nothing half so sweet in life   As love’s young dream! Though the bard to purer fame may soar,         When wild youth ’s past; Though he win the wise, who frowned before,         To smile at last;         He ’ll never meet         A joy so sweet   In all his noon of fame As when first he sung to woman’s ear         His soul-felt flame, And at every close she blushed to hear         The one loved name! O, that hallowed form is ne’er forgot,   Which first love traced; Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot   On memory’s waste!         ’T was odor fled         As soon as shed;   ’T was morning’s wingèd dream; ’T was a light that ne’er can shine again   On life’s dull stream! O, ’t was a light that ne’er can shine again   On life’s dull stream!

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