Page 521

Thomas Moore. (1779–1852) (continued)

5427

The moon looks
On many brooks,
“The brook can see no moon but this.” 1

While gazing on the Moon’s Light.

5428

And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen,
The maiden herself will steal after it soon.

Ill Omens.

5429

    ’T is sweet to think that where’er we rove
  We are sure to find something blissful and dear;
And that when we ’re far from the lips we love,
  We ’ve but to make love to the lips we are near.

’T is sweet to think.

5430

’T is believ’d that this harp which I wake now for thee
Was a siren of old who sung under the sea.

The Origin of the Harp.

5431

But there ’s nothing half so sweet in life
As love’s young dream.

Love’s Young Dream.

5432

To live with them is far less sweet
Than to remember thee. 2

I saw thy Form.

5433

Eyes of unholy blue.

By that Lake whose gloomy Shore.

5434

’T is the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone.

The Last Rose of Summer.

5435

    When true hearts lie wither’d
  And fond ones are flown,
Oh, who would inhabit
  This bleak world alone?

The Last Rose of Summer.

5436

And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.

The Young May Moon.

Note 1.
This image was suggested by the following thought, which occurs somewhere in Sir William Jones’s Works: “The moon looks upon many night-flowers; the night-flower sees but one moon.” [back]

Note 2.
In imitation of Shenstone’s inscription, “Heu! quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse.” [back]

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