Thomas Moore

Young Timothy
Learnt sin to fly.

Young Timothy
Learnt sin to fly.

Now in his Palace of the West,
Sinking to slumber, the bright Day,
Like a tired monarch read more

Now in his Palace of the West,
Sinking to slumber, the bright Day,
Like a tired monarch fann'd to rest,
'Mid the cool airs of Evening lay;
While round his couch's golden rim
The gaudy clouds, like courtiers, crept--
Struggling each other's light to dim,
And catch his last smile e'er he slept.

Together kneeling, night and day,
Thou, for my sake, at Allah's shrine,
And I--at any God's for read more

Together kneeling, night and day,
Thou, for my sake, at Allah's shrine,
And I--at any God's for thine.

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
Grow pure by being purely shone upon.

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
Grow pure by being purely shone upon.

How calm, how beautiful comes on
The stilly hour, when storms are gone!
When warring winds have read more

How calm, how beautiful comes on
The stilly hour, when storms are gone!
When warring winds have died away,
And clouds, beneath the glancing ray,
Melt off, and leave the land and sea
Sleeping in bright tranquillity.