One Dear Smile.

Couldst thou look as dear as when
    First I sighed for thee;
Couldst thou make me feel again
Every wish I breathed thee then,
    Oh, how blissful life would be!
Hopes that now beguiling leave me,
    Joys that lie in slumber cold--
All would wake, couldst thou but give me
    One dear smile like those of old.

No--there's nothing left us now,
    But to mourn the past;
Vain was every ardent vow--
Never yet did Heaven allow
    Love so warm, so wild, to last.
Not even hope could now deceive me--
    Life itself looks dark and cold;
Oh, thou never more canst give me
    One dear smile like those of old

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

How Happy, Once.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Translations From Catullus. Carm. II.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

The Prince's Day.[1]

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

The Fall Of Hebe. A Dithyrambic Ode.

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.

I'd Mourn The Hopes.

I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,
    If thy smiles had left me too;
I'd weep when friends deceive me,
    If thou wert, like them, untrue.
But while I've thee before me,
    With heart so warm and eyes so bright,
No clouds can linger o'er me,
    That smile turns them all to light.

'Tis not in fate to harm me,
    While fate leaves thy love to me;
'Tis not in joy to charm me,
    Unless joy be shared with thee.
One minute's dream about thee
    Were worth a long, an endless year
Of waking bliss without thee,
    My own love, my only dear!

And tho' the hope be gone, love,
    That long sparkled o'er our way,
Oh! we shall journey on, love,
    More safely, without its ray.
Far better lights shall win me
    Along the path I...

Thomas Moore

When First That Smile. (Venetian Air.)

When first that smile, like sunshine, blest my sight,
    Oh what a vision then came o'er me!
Long years of love, of calm and pure delight,
    Seemed in that smile to pass before me.
Ne'er did the peasant dream of summer skies,
    Of golden fruit and harvests springing,
With fonder hope than I of those sweet eyes,
    And of the joy their light was bringing.

Where now are all those fondly-promised hours?
    Ah! woman's faith is like her brightness--
Fading as fast as rainbows or day-flowers,
    Or aught that's known for grace and lightness.
Short as the Persian's prayer, at close of day,
    Should be each vow of Love's repeating;
Quick let him worship Beauty's precious ray--
    Even while he kneels, that ray is fleeting!

Thomas Moore

Dear? Yes.

Dear? yes, tho' mine no more,
    Even this but makes thee dearer;
And love, since hope is o'er,
    But draws thee nearer.

Change as thou wilt to me,
The same thy charm must be;
New loves may come to weave
    Their witchery o'er thee,
Yet still, tho' false, believe
    That I adore thee, yes, still adore thee.
Think'st thou that aught but death could end
A tie not falsehood's self can rend?
No, when alone, far off I die,
    No more to see, no more cares thee,
Even then, my life's last sigh
    Shall be to bless thee, yes, still to bless thee.

Thomas Moore

How Happy, Once.

How happy, once, tho' winged with sighs,
    My moments flew along,
While looking on those smiling eyes,
    And listening to thy magic song!
But vanished now, like summer dreams,
    Those moments smile no more;
For me that eye no longer beams,
    That song for me is o'er.
Mine the cold brow,
    That speaks thy altered vow,
While others feel thy sunshine now.

Oh, could I change my love like thee,
    One hope might yet be mine--
Some other eyes as bright to see,
    And hear a voice as sweet as thine:
But never, never can this heart
    Be waked to life again;
With thee it lost its vital part,
    And withered then!
Cold its pulse lies,
And mute are even its sighs,
All other grief it now defies.

Thomas Moore

To .... ....

The world has just begun to steal
    Each hope that led me lightly on;
I felt not, as I used to feel,
    And life grew dark and love was gone.

No eye to mingle sorrow's tear,
    No lip to mingle pleasure's breath,
No circling arms to draw me near--
    'Twas gloomy, and I wished for death.

But when I saw that gentle eye,
    Oh! something seemed to tell me then,
That I was yet too young to die,
    And hope and bliss might bloom again.

With every gentle smile that crost
    Your kindling cheek, you lighted home
Some feeling which my heart had lost
    And peace which far had learned to roam.

'Twas then indeed so sweet to live,
    Hope looked so new and Love so kind.
That, though I mourn, I yet forgive
    The ruin the...

Thomas Moore

Whene'er I See Those Smiling Eyes.

Whene'er I see those smiling eyes,
    So full of hope, and joy, and light,
As if no cloud could ever rise,
    To dim a heaven so purely bright--
I sigh to think how soon that brow
    In grief may lose its every ray,
And that light heart, so joyous now,
    Almost forget it once was gay.

For time will come with all its blights,
    The ruined hope, the friend unkind,
And love, that leaves, where'er it lights,
    A chilled or burning heart behind:--
While youth, that now like snow appears,
    Ere sullied by the darkening rain,
When once 'tis touched by sorrow's tears
    Can ever shine so bright again.

Thomas Moore