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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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

"
At length his career found a close in death,
The close he long wished to his cheerless roving,
For Victory shone on his latest breath,
And he died in a cause of his heart's approving.
But still he remembered his sorrow,--and still
He sung till the vision of life was over--
"Come, death, come! thou art not so chill
As the heart of a maid that deceives her lover."
* * * * *
When life looks lone and dreary,
What light can dispel the gloom?
When Time's swift wing grows weary,
What charm can refresh his plume?
'Tis woman whose sweetness beameth
O'er all that we feel or see;
And if man of heaven e'er dreameth,
'Tis when he thinks purely of thee,
O woman!
Let conquerors fight for glory,
Too dearly the meed they gain;
Let patriots live in story--
Too often they die in vain;
Give kingdoms to those who choose 'em,
This world can offer to me
No throne like Beauty's bosom,
No freedom like serving thee,
O woman!



CUPID'S LOTTERY.

A lottery, a Lottery,
In Cupid's court there used to be;
Two roguish eyes
The highest prize
In Cupid's scheming Lottery;
And kisses, too,
As good as new,
Which weren't very hard to win,
For he who won
The eyes of fun
Was sure to have the kisses in
A Lottery, a Lottery, etc.


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