Thomas Moore

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
OF Bard and Chief,
Old read more

O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
OF Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock.

Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye read more

Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night.

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
Grow pure by being purely shone upon.

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
Grow pure by being purely shone upon.

It seem'd as if each thought and look
And motion were that minute chain'd
Fast to the read more

It seem'd as if each thought and look
And motion were that minute chain'd
Fast to the spot such root she took,
And--like a sunflower by a brook,
With face upturn'd--so still remain'd!