Thomas Moore

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side
In the cause of mankind, if our creeds read more

Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side
In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree?
Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried,
If he kneel not before the same altar with me?
From the heretic girl of my soul should I fly,
To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss?
No! perish the hearts, and the laws that try
Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this!

Humility, that low, sweet root,
From which all heavenly virtues shoot.

Humility, that low, sweet root,
From which all heavenly virtues shoot.

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.

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touch'd by the read more

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.