A Speculation.

Of all speculations the market holds forth,
    The best that I know for a lover of pelf,
Is to buy Marcus up, at the price he is worth,
    And then sell him at that which he sets on himself.

Thomas Moore

Thomas Moore was an Irish poet, singer, and songwriter, celebrated for his Irish Melodies, which are now considered a staple of Irish cultural heritage. Born on May 28, 1779, in Dublin, Ireland, Moore gained fame for his lyrical songs, many of which were set to traditional Irish tunes. Not only a poet, but he was also a staunch advocate of Irish nationalism, often incorporating themes of national identity and resistance into his work. Moore's influential collection 'Irish Melodies' became popular in both Ireland and Britain and helped to define the literary output of the era. He passed away on February 25, 1852, but his legacy in Irish literature and music endures.

Thomas Moore

To .......

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

To Mrs. Henry Tighe, On Reading Her "Psyche."

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Horace, Ode XXXVIII. Lib. I. A Fragment.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Religion And Trade.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To Mr. Pierpont Morgan

    Dear Mr. Pierpont Morgan, -
    I hasten to give you a hearty British welcome.
    Come to my arms;
    I am in the Trust line myself -
    That is to say, I used to be
    Before people started putting up announcements
    To the effect that
    "Poor Trust is dead,
    Bad pay killed him."
    Some day, an I mistake not, Mr. Morgan,
    Your Trust will die:
    All Trusts are grass.
    Ponder it!
    I am a political economist, and I know.
    Meanwhile I am very pleased to think
    That we have amongst us a man of your financial prowess
    And purchasing power.
    There is a certain class of British person
    Who apparently goes in bodily fear of you.
    That class of person has groaned loudly over your steel exploit,
    And h...

Thomas William Hodgson Crosland

Literary Advertisement.

Wanted--Authors of all-work to job for the season,
    No matter which party, so faithful to neither;
Good hacks who, if posed for a rhyme or a reason.
    Can manage, like ******, to do without either.

If in jail, all the better for out-o'-door topics;
    Your jail is for travellers a charming retreat;
They can take a day's rule for a trip to the Tropics,
    And sail round the world at their ease in the Fleet.

For a dramatist too the most useful of schools--
    He can study high life in the King's Bench community;
Aristotle could scarce keep him more within rules,
    And of place he at least must adhere to the unity.

Any lady or gentleman, come to an age
    To have good "Reminiscences" (three-score or higher)
Will meet with e...

Thomas Moore

The Ghost Of Miltiades.

        ah quoties dubies Scriptis exarsit amator.
        OVID.


The Ghost of Miltiades came at night,
And he stood by the bed of the Benthamite,
And he said, in a voice that thrilled the frame,
"If ever the sound of Marathon's name
    Hath fired thy blood or flusht thy brow,
"Lover of Liberty, rouse thee now!"

The Benthamite yawning left his bed--
Away to the Stock Exchange he sped,
And he found the Scrip of Greece so high,
That it fired his blood, it flusht his eye,
And oh! 'twas a sight for the Ghost to see,
For never was Greek more Greek than he!
And still as the premium higher went,
His ecstasy rose--so much per cent.
(As we see in a glass that tells the weather
The heat and the silver rise together,)
And ...

Thomas Moore

Thoughts On Patrons, Puffs, And Other Matters. In An Epistle From Thomas Moore To Samuel Rogers.

What, thou, my friend! a man of rhymes,
    And, better still, a man of guineas,
To talk of "patrons," in these times,
    When authors thrive like spinning-jennies,
And Arkwright's twist and Bulwer's page
    Alike may laugh at patronage!

No, no--those times are past away,
    When, doomed in upper floors to star it.
The bard inscribed to lords his lay,--
    Himself, the while, my Lord Mountgarret.
No more he begs with air dependent.
His "little bark may sail attendant"
    Under some lordly skipper's steerage;
But launched triumphant in the Row,
Or taken by Murray's self in tow.
    Cuts both Star Chamber and the peerage.

Patrons, indeed! when scarce a sail
Is whiskt from England by the gale.
But bears on board some autho...

Thomas Moore

Love's Exchange

Simple am I, I care no whit
    For pelf or place,
It is enough for me to sit
    And watch Dulcinea's face;
To mark the lights and shadows flit
    Across the silver moon of it.

I have no other merchandise,
    No stocks or shares,
No other gold but just what lies
In those deep eyes of hers;
And, sure, if all the world were wise,
It too would bank within her eyes.

I buy up all her smiles all day
    With all my love,
And sell them back, cost-price, or, say,
    A kiss or two above;
It is a speculation fine,
The profit must be always mine.

The world has many things, 'tis true,
    To fill its time,
Far more important things to do
    Than making love and rhyme;
Yet, if it asked me to advise,
I'd say - buy up...

Richard Le Gallienne

The Millionaire.

In the upper circles
    Moves a famous man
Who has had no equal
    Since the world began.
He was once a broker
    Down by the exchange;
He is now a nabob--
    Don't you think it strange?

In his low back office,
    Near the Bowling Green,
With his brother brokers
    He was often seen;--
Shaving and discounting,
    Dabbling in the stocks,
He achieved a fortune
    Of a million ROCKS!'

Next he formed a marriage
    With a lady fair,
And his splendid carriage
    Bowled about THE square,
Where his spacious mansion
    Like a palace stood,
Envied and admired
    By the multitude.

Then he took the tour
    Of the continent,
Bearer of dispatches
    From the President:
A legation but...

George Pope Morris