Maxioms by Thomas Moore
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Whose read more
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer flood;
And those that under Araby's soft sun
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon.
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells!
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells!
The heart that has truly loved never forgets But as truly loves on to the close.
The heart that has truly loved never forgets But as truly loves on to the close.
O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
OF Bard and Chief,
Old read more
O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
OF Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock.
Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
read more
Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
In snowy milk the bashful rose.
