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Poem by Thomas Moore

From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 75

Spirit of Love, whose locks unrolled,
Stream on the breeze like floating gold;
Come, within a fragrant cloud
Blushing with light, thy votary shroud;
And, on those wings that sparkling play,
Waft, oh, waft me hence away!
Love! my soul is full of thee,
Alive to all thy luxury.
But she, the nymph for whom I glow,
The lovely Lesbian mocks my woe;
Smiles at the chill and hoary hues,
That time upon my forehead strews.
Alas! I fear she keeps her charms,
In store for younger, happier arms!

Thomas Moore

Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From Irish Melodies. 85. Oh For the Swords of Former Time
  2. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 24
  3. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 3
  4. From Irish Melodies. 103. The Mountain Spite
  5. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 51

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