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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

"The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes"


Guess who he is,
Name but his name,
And his best kiss
For reward you may claim.
Where'er o'er the ground
He prints his light feet.
The flowers there are found
Most shining and sweet:
His looks, as soft
As lightning in May,
Tho' dangerous oft,
Ne'er wound but in play:
And oh, when his wings
Have brushed o'er my lyre,
You'd fancy its strings
Were turning to fire.
Guess who he is,
Name but his name,
And his best kiss
For reward you may claim.



LIKE ONE WHO, DOOMED.

Like one who, doomed o'er distant seas
His weary path to measure,
When home at length, with favoring breeze,
He brings the far-sought treasure;
His ship, in sight of shore, goes down,
That shore to which he hasted;
And all the wealth he thought his own
Is o'er the waters wasted!
Like him, this heart, thro' many a track
Of toil and sorrow straying,
One hope alone brought fondly back,
Its toil and grief repaying.
Like him, alas, I see that ray
Of hope before me perish,
And one dark minute sweep away
What years were given to cherish.



FEAR NOT THAT, WHILE AROUND THEE.

Fear not that, while around thee
Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,
Whose smile thou seek'st no more.
No, dead and cold for ever
Let our past love remain;
Once gone, its spirit never
Shall haunt thy rest again.


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