Thomas Moore

  • From “Irish Melodies”
    ’T IS the last rose of summer,
      Left blooming alone;
    All her lovely companions
      Are faded and gone;
    No flower of her kindred,
      No rosebud, is nigh
    To reflect back her blushes,
      Or give sigh for sigh!

  • From “The Fire-Worshippers”
    FAREWELL,—farewell to thee, Araby’s daughter!
      (Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea;)
    No pearl ever lay under Oman’s green water
      More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee.

    O, fair as the sea-flower close to thee...

  • FAREWELL!—but whenever you welcome the hour
    That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,
    Then think of the friend that once welcomed it too,
    And forgot his own griefs, to be happy with you.
    His griefs may return—not a hope may remain
    Of the few that...

  • As slow our ship her foamy track
      Against the wind was cleaving,
    Her trembling pennant still looked back
      To that dear isle ’t was leaving.
    So loath we part from all we love,
      From all the links that bind us;
    So turn our hearts, as on we rove,...

  • From “The Light of the Harem”
    ALAS! how light a cause may move
    Dissension between hearts that love!
    Hearts that the world in vain has tried,
    And sorrow but more closely tied;
    That stood the storm when waves were rough,
    Yet in a sunny hour fall off,...

  • Song of Nourmahal in “The Light of the Harem”

    “FLY to the desert, fly with me,
    Our Arab tents are rude for thee;
    But oh! the choice what heart can doubt
    Of tents with love or thrones without?

    “Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
    The acacia...

  • Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
      Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
    Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
      Like fairy-gifts fading away,
    Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
      Let thy loveliness fade as it...

  • From “Irish Melodies”
    COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,
    Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;
    Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o’ercast,
    And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.

    Oh! what was love made...

  • 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...

  • How sweet the answer Echo makes
    To Music at night
    When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
    And far away o’er lawns and lakes
    Goes answering light!

    Yet Love hath echoes truer far
    And far more sweet
    Than e’er, beneath the moonlight’s star,...