Thomas Moore

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and
that is eternity.

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and
that is eternity.

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touch'd by the read more

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

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.

For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath read more

For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath say "mew;"
Nae birdie maun whistle, nae lambie maun play,
An' Phoebus himsel' could na travel that day,
As he'd find a new Joshua in Andie Agnew.