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Thomas Moore Short Poems

Famous Short Thomas Moore Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Thomas Moore. A collection of the all-time best Thomas Moore short poems


by Thomas Moore
 I've oft been told by learned friars,
That wishing and the crime are one,
And Heaven punishes desires
As much as if the deed were done.
If wishing damns us, you and I Are damned to all our heart's content; Come, then, at least we may enjoy Some pleasure for our punishment!



Echo  Create an image from this poem
by Thomas Moore
 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.
Yet Love hath echoes truer far, And far more sweet, Than e'er beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn or lute, or soft guitar, The songs repeat.
'Tis when the sigh, in youth sincere, And only then -- The sigh that's breathed for one to hear, Is by that one, that only dear, Breathed back again!

by Thomas Moore
 Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes 
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies, 
Shining through sorrow's stream, 
Saddening through pleasure's beam, 
Thy suns with doubtful gleam, 
Weep while they rise.
Erin, thy silent tear never shall cease, Erin, thy languid smile ne'er shall increase, Till, like the rainbow's light, Thy various tints unite, And form in heaven's sight One arch of peace!

by Thomas Moore
 How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, 
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea, 
For then sweet dreams of other days arise, 
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee.
And, as I watch the line of light, that plays Along the smooth wave toward the burning west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And think 'twould lead to some bright isle of rest.

by Thomas Moore
 Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, 
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid: 
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, 
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.