Thomas Moore

Yet, who can help loving the land that has taught us
Six hundred and eighty-five ways to dress eggs?

Yet, who can help loving the land that has taught us
Six hundred and eighty-five ways to dress eggs?

And soon, too soon, we part with pain,
To sail o'er silent seas again.

And soon, too soon, we part with pain,
To sail o'er silent seas again.

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she read more

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light.

Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye read more

Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night.

Study until twenty-five, investigation until forty, profession
until sixty, at which age I would have him retired on a read more

Study until twenty-five, investigation until forty, profession
until sixty, at which age I would have him retired on a double
allowance.