Thomas Moore

To live with them is far less sweet,
Than to remember thee!

To live with them is far less sweet,
Than to remember thee!

Alas! how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love!
Hearts that the world in read more

Alas! how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love!
Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied;
That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off.

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.

There written all
Black as the damning drops that fall
From the denouncing Angel's pen,
read more

There written all
Black as the damning drops that fall
From the denouncing Angel's pen,
Ere Mercy weeps them out again.