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Poem by Thomas Moore


From Irish Melodies. 14. How Dear to Me the Hour


How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
  	And sunbeams melt along the silent sea,
For then sweet dreams of other days arise,
  	And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee.

And, as I watch the line of light, that plays
  	Along the smooth wave toward the burning west,
I long to tread that golden path of rays,
  	And think twould lead to some bright isle of rest!



Thomas Moore


Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. TotheFire‑Fly
  2. Bright Be Thy Dreams
  3. The Lake of the Dismal Swamp
  4. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 49
  5. From Irish Melodies. 57. Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own


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