Thomas Moore ( )

From Irish Melodies. 54. The Young May Moon

          THE young May moon is beaming, love.
          The glow-worms lamp is gleaming, love.
                    How sweet to rove,
                    Through Mornas grove,
          When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
          Then awake!  the heavens look bright, my dear,
          Tis never too late for delight, my dear,
                    And the best of all ways
                    To lengthen our days
          Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

          Now all the world is sleeping, love,
          But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love,
                    And I, whose star,
                    More glorious far,
          Is the eye from that casement peeping, love.
          Then awake!  till rise of sun, my dear,
          The Sages glass well shun, my dear,
                    Or, in watching the flight
                    Of bodies of light,
          He might happen to take thee for one, my dear.

Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From Irish Melodies. 61. Id Mourn the Hopes
  2. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 3
  3. From Irish Melodies. 10. Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
  4. From Irish Melodies. 92. ODonohues Mistress
  5. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 68

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