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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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


If, where the brightest shine,
To see no form but thine,
To feel that earth can show
No bliss above thee,--
If this be love, then know
That thus, that thus, I love thee.
'Tis not in pleasure's idle hour
That thou canst know affection's power.
No, try its strength in grief or pain;
Attempt as now its bonds to sever,
Thou'lt find true love's a chain
That binds forever!



DEAR? YES.

Dear? yes, tho' mine no more,
Even this but makes thee dearer;
And love, since hope is o'er,
But draws thee nearer.
Change as thou wilt to me,
The same thy charm must be;
New loves may come to weave
Their witchery o'er thee,
Yet still, tho' false, believe
That I adore thee, yes, still adore thee.
Think'st thou that aught but death could end
A tie not falsehood's self can rend?
No, when alone, far off I die,
No more to see, no more cares thee,
Even then, my life's last sigh
Shall be to bless thee, yes, still to bless thee.



UNBIND THEE, LOVE.

Unbind thee, love, unbind thee, love,
From those dark ties unbind thee;
Tho' fairest hand the chain hath wove,
Too long its links have twined thee.
Away from earth!--thy wings were made
In yon mid-sky to hover,
With earth beneath their dove-like shade,
And heaven all radiant over.


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