Thomas Moore ( )


From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 1


I saw the smiling bard of pleasure,
The minstrel of the Teian measure;
Twas in a vision of the night,
He beamd upon my wondering sight
I heard his voice, and warmly prest
The dear enthusiast to my breast.
His tresses wore a silvery dye,
But beauty sparkled in his eye;
Sparkled in his eyes of fire,
Through the mist of soft desire,
His lip exhaled, wheneer he sighd,
The fragrance of the racy tide;
And, as with weak and reeling feet
He came my cordial kiss to meet,
An infant, of the Cyprian band,
Guided him on with tender hand.
Quick from his glowing brows he drew
His braid, of many a wanton hue;
I took the wreath, whose inmost twine
Breathed of him and blushd with wine.
I hung it oer my thoughtless brow,
And ah! I feel its magic now:
I feel that even his garlands touch
Can make the bosom love too much.



Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 72
  2. From Irish Melodies. 114. Ive a Secret to Tell Thee
  3. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 51
  4. From Irish Melodies. 70. Tis Gone, and for Ever
  5. From Irish Melodies. 102. And Doth Not a Meeting Like This


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