Thomas Moore

Go where glory waits thee;
But while fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me.

Go where glory waits thee;
But while fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me.

Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Whose read more

Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer flood;
And those that under Araby's soft sun
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.

Hath the pearl less whiteness
Because of its birth?
Hath the violet less brightness
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Hath the pearl less whiteness
Because of its birth?
Hath the violet less brightness
For growing near earth?

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.