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.

Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.

Good-bye--my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for, Yours sincerely.

One sole desire, one passion now remains
To keep life's fever still within his veins,
Vengeance! dire read more

One sole desire, one passion now remains
To keep life's fever still within his veins,
Vengeance! dire vengeance on the wretch who cast
O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast.

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.

Then should some cloud pass over
The brow of sire or lover,
Think 'tis the shade
read more

Then should some cloud pass over
The brow of sire or lover,
Think 'tis the shade
By Victory made
Whose wings right o'er us hover!