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THOMAS MOORE
Irish poet
(1779 - 1852)
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Vain were the man, and false as vain,
  Who said, were he ordained to run
    His long career of life again
      He would do all that he had done.
      - My Birthday [Life]

All that's bright must fade,--
  The brightest still the fleetest;
    All that's sweet was made
      But to be lost when sweetest.
      - National Airs--All That's Bright Must Fade
        [Change : Decay : Proverbs]

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
  Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
      - O Think Not My Spirits [Sensibility]

While the myrtle, now idly entwin'd with his crown.
  Like the wreath of Harmodius, shall cover his sword.
      - O, Blame Not The Bard [Myrtle]

I am nothing and to nothing tend,
  On earth I nothing have and nothing claim,
    Man's noblest works must have one common end,
      And nothing crown the tablet of his name.
      - Ode upon Nothing,
        appeared in "Saturday Magazine" about 1836, but not in collected works
        [Work]

Not more the rose, the queen of flowers,
  Outblushes all the bloom of bower,
    Than she unrivall'd grace discloses;
      The sweetest rose, where all are roses.
      - Odes of Anacreon (ode LXVI) [Beauty]

Now Neptune's sullen month appears,
  The angry night cloud swells with tears,
    And savage storms infuriate driven,
      Fly howling in the face of heaven!
        Now, now, my friends, the gathering gloom
          With roseate rays of wine illume:
            And while our wreaths of parsley spread
              Their fadeless foliage round our head,
                We'll hymn th' almighty power of wine,
                  And shed libations on his shrine!
      - Odes of Anacreon (ode LXVIII) [November]

They wove the lotus band to deck
  And fan with pensile wreath their neck.
      - Odes of Anacreon (ode LXX) [Lotuses]

On my velvet couch reclining,
  Ivy leaves my brow entwining,
    While my soul expands with glee,
      What are kings and crowns to me?
      - Odes of Anacreon (ode XLVIII) [Ivy]

Oh! there is naught in nature bright
  Whose roses do not shed their light;
    When morning paints the Orient skies,
      Her fingers burn with roseate dyes.
      - Odes of Anacreon--Ode LV [Roses]

The rose distils a healing balm
  The beating pulse of pain to calm.
      - Odes of Anacreon--Ode LV [Roses]

Rose! thou art the sweetest flower,
  That ever drank the amber shower;
    Rose! thou art the fondest child
      Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild.
      - Odes of Anacreon--Ode XLIV [Roses]

Cheek . . .
  Flushing white and mellow'd red;
    Gradual tints, as when there glows
      In snowy milk the bashful rose.
      - Odes of Anacreon--Ode XV (l. 27) [Face]

Why do we shed the rose's bloom
  Upon the cold, insensate tomb?
    Can flowery breeze, or odor's breath,
      Affect the slumbering chill of death?
      - Odes of Anacreon--Ode XXXII [Roses]

I feel like one who treads alone
  Some banquet hall deserted,
    Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead,
      And all but he departed.
      - Oft in the Stilly Night [Solitude]

Oft in the stilly night
  E'er slumber's chain has bound me,
    Fond memory brings the light
      Of other days around me.
      - Oft in the Stilly Night [Memory]

The smiles, the tears
  Of boyhood's years,
    The words of love then spoken.
      - Oft in the Stilly Night [Youth]

Life is a waste of wearisome hours,
  Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns,
    And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers,
      Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
      - Oh! Think not My Spirits are always as Light
        [Life]

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
  Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
      - Oh, Breathe not his Name [Memory]

O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
  Chosen leaf
    OF Bard and Chief,
      Old Erin's native Shamrock.
      - Oh, the Shamrock [Shamrocks]

Good at a fight, but better at a play;
  Godlike in giving, but the devil to pay.
      - On a Cast of Sheridan's Hand [Character]

Oh, call it by some better name,
  For Friendship sounds too cold.
      - On, call it by some better Name
        [Friendship]

'Tis believ'd that this harp which I wake now for thee
  Was a siren of old who sung under the sea.
      - Origin of the Harp [Music]

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious and free,
  First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea.
      - Remember Thee [Wishes]

Rose of the Desert! Thus should woman be
  Shining uncourted, lone and safe, like thee.
      - Rose of the Desert [Roses]


Displaying page 9 of 11 for this author:   << Prev  Next >>  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [9] 10 11

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