Thomas Moore

Man for his glory
To ancestry flies;
But Woman's bright story
Is told in her eyes.

The tribute most high to a head that is royal,
Is love from a heart that loves liberty too.

Come, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life,
There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake--
It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife."
"Why, so it is father--whose wife shall I take?

No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sun-flower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away.
Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart,
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

As sunshine broken in the rill,
Though turned astray, is sunshine still.

To sigh, yet feel no pain;
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by.

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood disconsolate.

Oh, call it by some better name,
For friendship sounds too cold.

The minds of some of our statesmen, like the pupil of the human eye, contract themselves the more, the stronger light there is shed upon them.

I feel like one,
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!

Love on through all ills, and love on till they die.

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells
Of youth and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime!

Who ran
Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all.

Eyes of unholy blue.