Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places




Best Famous Thomas Moore Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Thomas Moore poems. This is a select list of the best famous Thomas Moore poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Thomas Moore poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Thomas Moore poems.

Search for the best famous Thomas Moore poems, articles about Thomas Moore poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Thomas Moore poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also: Best Member Poems

Go Back

by Thomas Moore |

Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
   Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow, 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.
It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known, To which time will but make thee more dear; No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose.


by Thomas Moore |

When He Who Adores Thee

 When he, who adores thee, has left but the name 
Of his fault and his sorrows behind, 
Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame 
Of a life that for thee was resign'd? 
Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, 
Thy tears shall efface their decree; 
For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, 
I have been but too faithful to thee.
With thee were the dreams of my earliest love; Every thought of my reason was thine; In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Thy name shall be mingled with mine.
Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee.


by Thomas Moore |

When First I Met Thee

 When first I met thee, warm and young, 
There shone such truth about thee, 
And on thy lip such promise hung, 
I did not dare to doubt thee.
I saw thee change, yet still relied, Still clung with hope the fonder, And thought, though false to all beside, From me thou couldst not wander.
But go, deceiver! go, The heart, whose hopes could make it Trust one so false, so low, Deserves that thou shouldst break it.
When every tongue thy follies named, I fled the unwelcome story, Or found, in even the faults they blamed, Some gleams of future glory.
I still was true, when nearer friends Conspired to wrong, to slight thee; The heart that now thy falsehood rends Would then have bled to right thee.
But go, deceiver! go -- Some day, perhaps, thou'lt waken From pleasure's dream, to know The grief of hearts forsaken.
Even now, though youth its bloom has shed, No lights of age adorn thee; The few who loved thee once have fled, And they who flatter scorn thee.
Thy midnight cup is pledged to slaves, No genial ties enwreath it; The smiling there, like light on graves, Has rank cold hearts beneath it.
Go -- go -- though worlds were thine, I would not now surrender One taintless tear of mine For all thy guilty splendour! And days may come, thou false one! yet, When even those ties shall sever! When thou wilt call, with vain regret, On her thou'st lost for ever; On her who, in thy fortune's fall, With smiles had still received thee, And gladly died to prove thee all Her fancy first believed thee.
Go -- go -- 'tis vain to curse, 'Tis weakness to upbraid thee; Hate cannot wish thee worse Than guilt and shame have made thee.


by Thomas Moore |

While Gazing on the Moons Light

 While gazing on the moon's light, 
A moment from her smile I turn'd, 
To look at orbs that, more bright, 
In lone and distant glory burn'd.
But too far Each proud star, For me to feel its warming flame; Much more dear That mild sphere, Which near our planet smiling came; Thus, Mary, be but thou my own, While brighter eyes unheeded play, I'll love those moonlight looks alone That bless my home and guide my way.
The day had sunk in dim showers, But midnight now, with lustre meet, Illumined all the pale flowers, Like hope upon a mourner's cheek.
I said (while The moon's smile Play'd o'er a stream, in dimpling bliss,) "The moon looks On many brooks, The brook can see no moon but this;" And thus, I thought, our fortunes run, For many a lover looks to thee, While oh! I feel there is but one, One Mary in the world for me.


by Thomas Moore |

Where is the Slave

 Oh, where's the slave so lowly, 
Condemn'd to chains unholy, 
Who, could he burst 
His bonds at first, 
Would pine beneath them slowly? 
What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, 
Would wait till time decay'd it, 
When thus its wing 
At once may spring 
To the throne of Him who made it? 

Farewell, Erin, -- farewell, all, 
Who live to weep our fall! 

Less dear the laurel growing, 
Alive, untouch'd and blowing, 
Than that whose braid 
Is pluckd to shade 
The brows with victory glowing.
We tread the land that bore us, Her green flag glitters o'er us, The friends we've tried Are by our side, And the foe we hate before us.
Farewell, Erin, -- farewell, all, Who live to weep our fall!


by Thomas Moore |

Ive a Secret to Tell Thee

 I've a secret to tell thee, but hush! not here -- 
Oh! not where the world its vigil keeps: 
I'll seek, to whisper it in thine ear, 
Some shore where the Spirit of Silence sleeps; 
Where Summer's wave unmurmuring dies, 
Nor fay can hear the fountain's gush; 
Where, if but a note her night-bird sighs, 
The rose saith, chidingly, "Hush, sweet, hush!" 

There, amid the deep silence of that hour, 
When stars can be heard in ocean dip, 
Thyself shall, under some rosy bower, 
Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip: 
Like him, the boy, who born among 
The flowers that on the Nile-stream blush, 
Sits ever thus -- his only song 
To earth and heaven, "Hush, all, hush!"


by Thomas Moore |

St. Senanus and the Lady

 St.
Senanus "On! haste, and leave this sacred isle, Unholy bark, ere morning smile; For on thy deck, though dark it be, A female form I see; And I have sworn this sainted sod Shall ne'er by woman's feet by trod!" The Lady "Oh! Father, send not hence my bark Through wintry winds and billows dark, I come, with humble heart, to share Thy morn and evening prayer; Nor mine the feet, oh! holy Saint, The brightness of thy sod to taint.
" The lady's prayer Senanus spurn'd; The winds blew fresh, the bark return'd.
But legends hint, that had the maid Till morning's light delay'd, And given the saint one rosy smile, She ne'er had left his lonely isle.


by Thomas Moore |

Remember Thee!

 Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this heart, 
It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art; 
More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom, and thy showers, 
Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours.
Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free, First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea, I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, But oh! could I love thee more deeply tha now? No, thy chains as they rankle, thy blood as it runs, But make thee more painfully dear to thy sons -- Whose hearts, like the young of the desert-bird's nest, Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy breast.


by Thomas Moore |

Enigma

 Some men are born to gather women's tears,
To give a harbour to their timorous fears,
To take them as the dry earth takes the rain,
As the dark wood the warm wind from the plain;
Yet their own tears remain unshed,
Their own tumultuous fears unsaid,
And, seeming steadfast as the forest and the earth
Shaken are they with pain.
They cry for voice as earth might cry for the sea Or the wood for consuming fire; Unanswered they remain Subject to the sorrows of women utterly - Heart and mind, Subject as the dry earth to the rain Or the dark wood to the wind.


by Thomas Moore |

Sail On Sail On

 Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark -- 
Where'er blows the welcome wind, 
It cannot lead to scenes more dark, 
More sad than those we leave behind.
Each wave that passes seems to say, "Though death beneath our smile may be, Less cold we are, less false than they, Whose smiling wreck'd thy hopes and thee.
" Sail on, sail on -- through endless space -- Through calm -- through tempest -- stop no more: The stormiest sea's a resting-place To him who leaves such hearts on shore.
Or -- if some desert land we meet, Where never yet false-hearted men Profaned a world, that else were sweet -- Then rest thee, bark, but not till then.