Thomas Moore

Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.

Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.

Yes,--rather plunge me back in pagan night,
And take my chance with Socrates for bliss,
Than be read more

Yes,--rather plunge me back in pagan night,
And take my chance with Socrates for bliss,
Than be the Christian of a faith like this,
Which builds on heavenly cant its earthly sway,
And in a convert mourns to lose a prey.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

Then should some cloud pass over
The brow of sire or lover,
Think 'tis the shade
read more

Then should some cloud pass over
The brow of sire or lover,
Think 'tis the shade
By Victory made
Whose wings right o'er us hover!

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood disconsolate.

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood disconsolate.