POETRY OF THOMAS MOORE

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Halaman 47 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me : The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken ! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Halaman 130 - Now, upon Syria's land of roses Softly the light of Eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted Lebanon ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Halaman 29 - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
Halaman 11 - One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker, or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting...
Halaman 17 - BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself vcrclantlv still.
Halaman 101 - Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Halaman 9 - The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled.
Halaman 53 - 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 ! And false the light on Glory's plume, As fading hues of even; And Love, and Hope, and Beauty's bloom, Are blossoms gathered for the tomb, — There's nothing bright but Heaven ! in.
Halaman 8 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing : But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Halaman xxiv - ... yet remains of that magical potency which once belonged to the name of Byron. To us he is still a man, young, noble, and unhappy. To our children he will be merely a writer ; and their impartial judgment will appoint his place among writers, without regard to his rank or to his private history. That his poetry will undergo a severe sifting, that much of what has been admired by his contemporaries will be rejected as worthless, we have little doubt. But we have as little doubt that, after the...

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