Thomas Moore ( 10 of 56 )
I am nothing and to nothing tend,
On earth I nothing have and nothing claim,
Man's noblest read more
I am nothing and to nothing tend,
On earth I nothing have and nothing claim,
Man's noblest works must have one common end,
And nothing crown the tablet of his name.
But the trail of the serpent is over them all.
But the trail of the serpent is over them all.
Where bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
Where bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
Alas! how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love!
Hearts that the world in read more
Alas! how light a cause may move
Dissension between hearts that love!
Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied;
That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off.
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Whose read more
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer flood;
And those that under Araby's soft sun
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon.
Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye read more
Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night.
There is something more horrible than hoodlums, churls and
vipers, and that is knaves with moral justification for their read more
There is something more horrible than hoodlums, churls and
vipers, and that is knaves with moral justification for their
cause.
Find me next a Poppy posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy.
Find me next a Poppy posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy.
For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath read more
For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
He's na let a cat on the Sabbath say "mew;"
Nae birdie maun whistle, nae lambie maun play,
An' Phoebus himsel' could na travel that day,
As he'd find a new Joshua in Andie Agnew.
Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
read more
Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
In snowy milk the bashful rose.