Poem by Thomas Moore

To Rosa

Like who trusts to summer skies. 
      And puts his little bark to sea.  
Is he who, lur’d by smiling eyes, 
      Consigns his simple heart to thee. 
 
For fickle is the summer wind,  
      And sadly may the bark be tost; 
For thou art sure to change thy mind,  
      And then the wretched heart is lost.

1. From “Irish Melodies”. 41. Lesbia Hath a Beaming Eye
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 32
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 47. What the Bee Is to the Floweret
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 120. Oh, Could We Do with This World of Ours
5. From “Irish Melodies”. 48. Love and the Novice

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