The poetical works of Thomas Moore, ed. with a memoir by W.M. Rossetti

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Side 82 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle. To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die ! Now too — the joy most like divine Of all I ever dreamt or knew.
Side 390 - The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown, And he who has but tears to give Must weep those tears alone.
Side 143 - Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart An instant sunshine through the heart, — As if the soul that minute caught Some treasure it through life had sought...
Side 386 - God, the life and light Of all this wondrous world we, see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from thee; Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine! When day, with farewell beam, delays Among the opening clouds of even, And we can almost think we gaze Through golden vistas into heaven, Those hues, that make the sun's decline So soft, so radiant, Lord!
Side 346 - Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me ? From the heretic girl of my soul shall I fly, To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss? No ! perish the hearts, and the laws that try Truth, valour, or love by a standard like this ! SUBLIME WAS THE WARNING.
Side 387 - This world is all a fleeting show For man's illusion given ; The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow, — There's nothing true but Heaven...
Side 340 - Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, Oh ! no, — it was something more exquisite still.
Side 61 - Nymph of a fair, but erring line ! " Gently he said — "One hope is thine. Tis written in the Book of Fate, The Peri yet may be forgiven Who brings to this Eternal Gate The Gift that is most dear to Heaven ! Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin— 'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in ! " Rapidly as comets run To th...
Side 375 - Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame?
Side 142 - And oh ! if there be an elysium on earth, It is this, it is this...

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