Thomas Moore

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
Grow pure by being purely shone upon.

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
Grow pure by being purely shone upon.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

But the trail of the serpent is over them all.

But the trail of the serpent is over them all.

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.