Thomas Moore Quotes

Eyes of unholy blue.

Though an angel should write, still 't is devils must print.

The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.

If I speak to thee in friendship's name,
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.

But the trail of the serpent is over them all.

The light that lies
In woman's eyes,
Has been my heart's undoing.

Accurst is the march of that glory
Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.

Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid.

Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past.

Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye,
But turn to ashes on the lips.

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.

Ask a woman's advice, and, whate'er she advise, Do the very reverse and you're sure to be wise.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean
Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,
Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,
The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,
So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded,
The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.