Thomas Moore

Humility, that low, sweet root,
From which all heavenly virtues shoot.

Humility, that low, sweet root,
From which all heavenly virtues shoot.

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells!

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells!

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!

The heart that has truly loved never forgets But as truly loves on to the close.

The heart that has truly loved never forgets But as truly loves on to the close.

Dear creature!--you'd swear
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of read more

Dear creature!--you'd swear
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of light, that her home is the air,
And she only par complaisance touches the ground.