All Poems
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If Thou'lt Be Mine
© Thomas Moore
If thou'lt be mine, the treasures of air,
Of earth, and sea, shall lie at thy feet;
Whatever in Fancy's eye looks fair,
Or in Hope's sweet music sounds most sweet,
Shall be ours -- if thou wilt be mine, love!
I'd Mourn the Hopes
© Thomas Moore
I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,
If thy smiles had left me too;
I'd weep when friends deceive me,
If thou wert, like them, untrue.
I Wish I Was By That Dim Lake
© Thomas Moore
I wish I was by that dim Lake,
Where sinful souls their farewell take
Of this vain world, and half-way lie
In death's cold shadow, ere they die.
I Saw Thy Form in Youthful Prime
© Thomas Moore
I saw thy form in youthful prime,
Nor thought that pale decay
Would steal before the steps of Time,
And waste its bloom away, Mary!
I Saw From the Beach
© Thomas Moore
I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,
A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;
I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining,
The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.
How Oft Has the Benshee Cried
© Thomas Moore
How oft has the Benshee cried,
How oft has death untied
Bright links that Glory wove,
Sweet bonds entwined by Love.
How Dear to Me the Hour
© Thomas Moore
How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea,
For then sweet dreams of other days arise,
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee.
Has Sorrow Thy Young Days Shaded
© Thomas Moore
Has sorrow thy young days shaded,
As clouds o'er the morning fleet?
Too fast have those young days faded
That, even in sorrow, were sweet?
Go Where Glory Waits Thee
© Thomas Moore
Go where glory waits thee,
But while fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me.
When the praise thou meetest
From This Hour the Pledge is Given
© Thomas Moore
From this hour the pledge is given,
From this hour my soul is thine:
Come what will, from earth of heaven,
Weal or woe, thy fate be mine.
Forget Not the Field
© Thomas Moore
Forget not the field where they perish'd,
The truest, the last of the brave,
All gone -- and the bright hope we cherish'd
Gone with them, and quench'd in their grave!
Fly Not Yet
© Thomas Moore
Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour,
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night,
Fill the Bumper Fair
© Thomas Moore
Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
Farewell! -- But Whenever You Welcome the Hour
© Thomas Moore
Farewell! but whenever you welcome the hour
That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,
Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too,
And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
Fairest! Put on a While
© Thomas Moore
Fairest! put on a while
These pinions of light I bring thee,
And o'er thy own green isle
In fancy let me wing thee.
Eveleen's Bower
© Thomas Moore
Oh! weep for the hour,
When to Eveleen's bower,
The Lord of the Valley with false vows came;
The moon hid her light,
From the heavens that night,
And wept behind her clouds o'er the maiden's shame.
Erin, Oh Erin
© Thomas Moore
Like the bright lamp, that shone in Kildare's holy fane,
And burn'd through long ages of darkness and storm,
Is the heart that sorrows have frown'd on in vain,
Whose spirit outlives them, unfading and warm.
Erin, oh Erin, thus bright through the tears
Of a long night of bondage, thy spirit appears.
Erin! The Tear and the Smile in Thine Eyes
© Thomas Moore
Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies,
Shining through sorrow's stream,
Saddening through pleasure's beam,
Thy suns with doubtful gleam,
Weep while they rise.
