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Poem by Thomas Moore


The Song of Fionnuala


Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water,
Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose,
While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter
Tell's to the night-star her tale of woes.
When shall the swan, her death-note singing,
Sleep, with wings in darkness furl'd?
When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, oh Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping,
Fate bids me languish long ages away;
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping,
Still doth the pure light its dawning delay.
When will that day-star, mildly springing,
Warm our isle with peace and love?
When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit to the fields above? 



Thomas Moore


Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. One Bumper At Parting
  2. When Cold In The Earth
  3. There Are Sounds Of Mirth
  4. We May Roam Through This World
  5. Nay, Tell Me Not, Dear


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