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.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek
Young roses kindled into thought.

Oh, colder than the wind that freezes
Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd,
Is that congealing read more

Oh, colder than the wind that freezes
Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd,
Is that congealing pang which seizes
The trusting bosom, when betray'd.

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.

How calm, how beautiful comes on
The stilly hour, when storms are gone!
When warring winds have read more

How calm, how beautiful comes on
The stilly hour, when storms are gone!
When warring winds have died away,
And clouds, beneath the glancing ray,
Melt off, and leave the land and sea
Sleeping in bright tranquillity.