Poem by Thomas Moore

From “Irish Melodies”. 8. Oh, Think Not My Spirits Are Always as Light

Oh! think not my spirits are always as light,
  	And as free from a pang as they seem to you now;
Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night
  	Will return with to morrow to brighten my brow.
No! – life is a waste of wearisome hours,
  	Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns;
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers,
  	Is always the first to be touched by the thorns.
But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile –
  	May we never meet worse, in our pilgrimage here,
Than the tear that enjoyment may gild with a smile,
  	And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear.

The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows!
  	If it were not with friendship and love intertwined:
And I care not how soon I may sink to repose,
  	When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind.
But they who have loved the fondest, the purest.
  	Too often have wept o’er the dream they believed;
And the heart that has slumbered in friendship, securest,
  	Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived.
But send round the bowl; while a relic of truth
  	Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be mine, –
That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth,
  	And the moonlight of friendship console our decline.

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 54
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 56
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 52
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 64
5. From “Irish Melodies”. 113. Alone in Crowds to Wander On

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