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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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


'Twas but a moment--the blush brought
O'er all her features at the thought
Of being seen thus, late, alone,
By any but the eyes she sought,
Had scarcely for an instant shore
Thro' the dark leaves when she was gone--
Gone, like a meteor that o'erhead
Suddenly shines, and, ere we've said,
"Behold, how beautiful!"--'tis fled,
Yet ere she went the words, "I come,
"I come, my NAMA," reached her ear,
In that kind voice, familiar, dear,
Which tells of confidence, of home,--
Of habit, that hath drawn hearts near,
Till they grow _one_,--of faith sincere,
And all that Love most loves to hear;
A music breathing of the past,
The present and the time to be,
Where Hope and Memory to the last
Lengthen out life's true harmony!
Nor long did he whom call so kind
Summoned away remain behind:
Nor did there need much time to tell
What they--alas! more fallen than he
From happiness and heaven--knew well,
His gentler love's short history!
Thus did it run--_not_ as he told
The tale himself, but as 'tis graved
Upon the tablets that, of old,
By SETH[17] were from the deluge saved,
All written over with sublime
And saddening legends of the unblest
But glorious Spirits of that time,
And this young Angel's 'mong the rest.

THIRD ANGEL'S STORY.


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