The Poetical Works of Thomas MooreCrissy & Markley, 1858 - 431 sider |
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Side 370
... Dear Fanny ! dear Fanny ! The soft eye of blue , Though it scatter wounds too , Then say , oh say no more That lovers ' pains are sweet . I never , never can Believe the fond deceit . DEAR FANNY . SHE has beauty , but still you must ...
... Dear Fanny ! dear Fanny ! The soft eye of blue , Though it scatter wounds too , Then say , oh say no more That lovers ' pains are sweet . I never , never can Believe the fond deceit . DEAR FANNY . SHE has beauty , but still you must ...
Side 375
... DEAR SMILE . COULDST thou look as dear as when First I sigh'd for thee ; Couldst thou make me feel again Every wish I breathed thee then , Oh ! how blissful life would be ! Hopes , that now beguiling leave me , Joys , that lie in ...
... DEAR SMILE . COULDST thou look as dear as when First I sigh'd for thee ; Couldst thou make me feel again Every wish I breathed thee then , Oh ! how blissful life would be ! Hopes , that now beguiling leave me , Joys , that lie in ...
Side 402
... dear helpmate , on you ? And is it then vanish d ? -that " hour ( as Othello So happily calls it ) of Love and Direction , " And must we , like other fond doves , my dear fellow , Grow good in our old age , and cut the connection ...
... dear helpmate , on you ? And is it then vanish d ? -that " hour ( as Othello So happily calls it ) of Love and Direction , " And must we , like other fond doves , my dear fellow , Grow good in our old age , and cut the connection ...
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Anacreon ancient angels bard beam beautiful beneath Bermuda blest bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breath bright brow burning called Cashmere Catullus charm cheek Cicero dark dear death delight divine dream e'en earth Epicurus epigram eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers glory glow grace Haram hath heart heaven holy hope hour hung hyæna King kiss LALLA LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Byron lov'd lover lute lyre maid Moore morning mountain Naptha ne'er never night nymph o'er once Persian Pindar Plato Plutarch poem poet pure Pythagoras rose round seem'd shade shed shine sigh sleep smile song soul sparkling spirit star sweet tears tell thee thine THOMAS MOORE thou thought throne turn'd Twas veil warm wave weep wild wings young youth