To Thomas Moore

My boat is on the shore,   And my bark is on the sea; But before I go, Tom Moore,   Here ’s a double health to thee! Here ’s a sigh to those who love me,   And a smile to those who hate; And, whatever sky ’s above me,   Here ’s a heart for every fate: Though the ocean roar around me,   Yet it still shall bear me on; Though a desert should surround me,   It hath springs that may be won. Were ’t the last drop in the well,   As I gasped upon the brink, Ere my fainting spirit fell,   ’T is to thee that I would drink. With that water, as this wine,   The libation I would pour Should be,—Peace with thine and mine,   And a health to thee, Tom Moore!