Thomas Moore

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

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.

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.

There is something more horrible than hoodlums, churls and
vipers, and that is knaves with moral justification for their read more

There is something more horrible than hoodlums, churls and
vipers, and that is knaves with moral justification for their
cause.