Quote #12
Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.
More from Thomas Moore
- The harp that once through Tara's Hall The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's wall As if that soul were fled.
- 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 fa…
- And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
- But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.
- Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid.
- Eyes of unholy blue.
- Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me!
- 'Tis the last rose of Summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone.