(Thomas Moore)

From Irish Melodies. 29. While Gazing on the Moon's Light

          WHILE gazing on the moons light,
                A moment from her smile I turnd,
          To look at orbs that, more bright,
                In lone and distant glory burnd.
                    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,
          Ill 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 mourners cheek.
                    I said (while
                    The moons smile
          Playd oer 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.

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