Thomas Moore

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.

Where bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

Where bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

Hath the pearl less whiteness
Because of its birth?
Hath the violet less brightness
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Hath the pearl less whiteness
Because of its birth?
Hath the violet less brightness
For growing near earth?

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

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.