Thomas Moore Quotations

Thomas Moore (May 28, 1779 – February 25, 1852) was an Irish poet and hymnist, now best remembered for the lyrics of The Last Rose of Summer.

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• Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
  • Poems Relating to America. A Canadian Boat Song, st. 1

• A Persian's heaven is easily made: 'Tis but black eyes and lemonade.
  • Intercepted Letters; or The Two-Penny Post Bag, VI (1813)

• Oft, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken!
  • National Airs, Oft in the Stilly Night, st. 1 (1815)

• I feel like one, Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed!
  • Oft in the Stilly Night, st. 2 (1815)

• What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine.
  • National Airs, Spring and Autumn, st. 1 (1815)

• All that's bright must fade,— The brightest and the fleetest; All that's sweet was made, But to be lost when sweetest.
  • "All that's Bright Must Fade" (Indian Air), National Airs, (1818–1827)

• Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumphed—his people are free.
  • Sacred Songs, Sound the Loud Timbrel, st. 1

• Oh, call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold.
  • Ballads and Songs. Oh, Call It by Some Better Name, st. 1

• "Come, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life, There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-- It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife." "Why, so it is father--whose wife shall I take?"
  • A Joke Versified

Irish Melodies (1807-1834)

• Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me!
  • Go Where Glory Waits Thee, st. 1

• Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid.
  • Oh Breathe Not His Name, st. 1

• And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
  • Oh Breathe Not His Name, st. 1

• The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled.
  • The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls, st. 1

• 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, st. 1

• Believe me, if all those endearing young charms Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow and fleet in my arms, Like fairy gifts fading away. Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart, Would entwine itself verdantly still.
  • Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms, st. 1

• But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.
  • Love's Young Dream', st. 1

• Eyes of unholy blue.
  • By That Lake Whose Gloomy Shore, st. 2

• 'Tis the last rose of Summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone.
  • The Last Rose of Summer, st. 1

• The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him.
  • The Minstrel Boy, st. 1

• And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
  • The Young May Moon, st. 1

• You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
  • Farewell! But Whenever You Welcome the Hour, st. 3

• No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.
  • Come O'er the Sea, st. 2

• The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing.
  • The Time I've Lost in Wooing, st. 1

• My only books Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me.
  • The Time I've Lost in Wooing, st. 1

Lalla Rookh (1817)

• There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
  • Part II

• Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, But the trail of the serpent is over them all.
  • Part II

• Oh! ever thus from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nurst a dear gazelle To glad me with its soft black eye But when it came to know me well And love me it was sure to die!
  • Part V

• Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips.
  • Part V

• Paradise itself were dim And joyless, if not shared with him!
  • Part VI

External links

• Works by Thomas Moore at Project Gutenberg

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