The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore
Chapter 93 : HOPE COMES AGAIN.Hope comes again, to this heart long a stranger, Once more she sings m

HOPE COMES AGAIN.

Hope comes again, to this heart long a stranger, Once more she sings me her flattering strain; But hush, gentle syren--for, ah, there's less danger In still suffering on, than in hoping again.

Long, long, in sorrow, too deep for repining, Gloomy, but tranquil, this bosom hath lain: And joy coming now, like a sudden light s.h.i.+ning O'er eyelids long darkened, would bring me but pain.

Fly then, ye visions, that Hope would shed o'er me; Lost to the future, my sole chance of rest Now lies not in dreaming of bliss that's before me.

But, ah--in forgetting how once I was blest.

O SAY, THOU BEST AND BRIGHTEST.

O say, thou best and brightest, My first love and my last.

When he, whom now thou slightest, From life's dark scene hath past, Will kinder thoughts then move thee?

Will pity wake one thrill For him who lived to love thee, And dying loved thee still?

If when, that hour recalling From which he dates his woes, Thou feel'st a tear-drop falling, Ah, blush not while it flows; But, all the past forgiving, Bend gently o'er his shrine, And say, "This heart, when living, "With all its faults, was mine."

WHEN NIGHT BRINGS THE HOUR.

When night brings the hour Of starlight and joy, There comes to my bower A fairy-winged boy; With eyes so bright, So full of wild arts, Like nets of light, To tangle young hearts; With lips, in whose keeping Love's secret may dwell, Like Zephyr asleep in Some rosy sea-sh.e.l.l.

Guess who he is, Name but his name, And his best kiss For reward you may claim.

Where'er o'er the ground He prints his light feet.

The flowers there are found Most s.h.i.+ning and sweet: His looks, as soft As lightning in May, Tho' dangerous oft, Ne'er wound but in play: And oh, when his wings Have brushed o'er my lyre, You'd fancy its strings Were turning to fire.

Guess who he is, Name but his name, And his best kiss For reward you may claim.

LIKE ONE WHO, DOOMED.

Like one who, doomed o'er distant seas His weary path to measure, When home at length, with favoring breeze, He brings the far-sought treasure;

His s.h.i.+p, in sight of sh.o.r.e, goes down, That sh.o.r.e to which he hasted; And all the wealth he thought his own Is o'er the waters wasted!

Like him, this heart, thro' many a track Of toil and sorrow straying, One hope alone brought fondly back, Its toil and grief repaying.

Like him, alas, I see that ray Of hope before me perish, And one dark minute sweep away What years were given to cherish.

FEAR NOT THAT, WHILE AROUND THEE.

Fear not that, while around thee Life's varied blessings pour, One sigh of hers shall wound thee, Whose smile thou seek'st no more.

No, dead and cold for ever Let our past love remain; Once gone, its spirit never Shall haunt thy rest again.

May the new ties that bind thee Far sweeter, happier prove, Nor e'er of me remind thee, But by their truth and love.

Think how, asleep or waking, Thy image haunts me yet; But, how this heart is breaking For thy own peace forget.

WHEN LOVE IS KIND.

When Love is kind, Cheerful and free, Love's sure to find Welcome from me.

But when Love brings Heartache or pang, Tears, and such things-- Love may go hang!

If Love can sigh For one alone, Well pleased am I To be that one,

But should I see Love given to rove To two or three, Then--good by Love!

Love must, in short, Keep fond and true, Thro' good report, And evil too.

Else, here I swear, Young Love may go.

For aught I care-- To Jericho.