Thomas Moore

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

Young Timothy
Learnt sin to fly.

Young Timothy
Learnt sin to fly.

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.

With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, read more

With what a deep devotedness of woe
I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again
Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
And memory, like a drop that, night and day,
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!

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.