Thomas Moore

Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as read more

Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as the woods on shore dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn;
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near and the daylight's past.

All that's bright must fade,--
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made
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All that's bright must fade,--
The brightest still the fleetest;
All that's sweet was made
But to be lost when sweetest.

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.

Study until twenty-five, investigation until forty, profession
until sixty, at which age I would have him retired on a read more

Study until twenty-five, investigation until forty, profession
until sixty, at which age I would have him retired on a double
allowance.

Young Timothy
Learnt sin to fly.

Young Timothy
Learnt sin to fly.