The Halcyon Hangs O'er Ocean.

The halcyon hangs o'er ocean,
    The sea-lark skims the brine;
This bright world's all in motion,
    No heart seems sad but mine.

To walk thro' sun-bright places,
    With heart all cold the while;
To look in smiling faces,
    When we no more can smile;

To feel, while earth and heaven
    Around thee shine with bliss,
To thee no light is given,--
    Oh, what a doom is this!

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

I'd Mourn The Hopes.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

It Is Not The Tear At This Moment Shed.[1]

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

She Sung Of Love.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Mr. Roger Dodsworth.

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.

With Moonlight Beaming.

With moonlight beaming
    Thus o'er the deep,
Who'd linger dreaming
    In idle sleep?
Leave joyless souls to live by day,--
Our life begins with yonder ray;
And while thus brightly
    The moments flee,
Our barks skim lightly
    The shining sea.

To halls of splendor
    Let great ones hie;
Thro' light more tender
    Our pathways lie.
While round, from banks of brook or lake,
Our company blithe echoes make;
And as we lend 'em
    Sweet word or strain,
Still back they send 'em
    More sweet again.

Thomas Moore

I Saw From The Beach.

I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,
    A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;
I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining,
    The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.

And such is the fate of our life's early promise,
    So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known;
Each wave, that we danced on at morning, ebbs from us,
    And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.

Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning
    The close of our day, the calm eve of our night;--
Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of Morning,
    Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's best light.

Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning,
    When passion first waked a new life thro' his frame,
And his soul, like ...

Thomas Moore

Like One Who, Doomed.

Like one who, doomed o'er distant seas
    His weary path to measure,
When home at length, with favoring breeze,
    He brings the far-sought treasure;

His ship, in sight of shore, goes down,
    That shore to which he hasted;
And all the wealth he thought his own
    Is o'er the waters wasted!

Like him, this heart, thro' many a track
    Of toil and sorrow straying,
One hope alone brought fondly back,
    Its toil and grief repaying.

Like him, alas, I see that ray
    Of hope before me perish,
And one dark minute sweep away
    What years were given to cherish.

Thomas Moore

Come O'er The Sea.

        Come o'er the sea,
        Maiden, with me,
    Mine thro' sunshine, storm, and snows;
        Seasons may roll,
        But the true soul
    Burns the same, where'er it goes.
Let fate frown on, so we love and part not;
'Tis life where thou art, 'tis death where thou art not.
        Then come o'er the sea,
        Maiden, with me,
    Come wherever the wild wind blows;
        Seasons may roll,
        But the true soul
    Burns the same, where'er it goes.

        Was not the sea
        Made for the Free,
    Land for courts and chains alone?
        Here we are slaves,
        But, on the waves,
    Love and Liberty's all our own.
No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us,
All earth forgot, and all heaven aro...

Thomas Moore

To Joseph Atkinson, Esq.

FROM BERMUDA.^[1]


"The daylight is gone--but, before we depart,
"One cup shall go round to the friend of my heart,
"The kindest, the dearest--oh! judge by the tear
"I now shed while I name him, how kind and how dear."

    'Twas thus in the shade of the Calabash-Tree,
With a few, who could feel and remember like me,
The charm that, to sweeten my goblet, I threw
Was a sigh to the past and a blessing on you.

    Oh! say, is it thus, in the mirth-bringing hour,
When friends are assembled, when wit, in full flower,
Shoots forth from the lip, under Bacchus's dew,
In blossoms of thought ever springing and new--
Do you sometimes remember, and hallow the brim
Of your cup with a sigh, as you crown it to him
Who is lonely and sad in these val...

Thomas Moore

Sail On, Sail On.

Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark--
    Wherever blows the welcome wind,
It cannot lead to scenes more dark,
    More sad than those we leave behind.
Each wave that passes seems to say,
    "Tho' death beneath our smile may be,
    Less cold we are, less false than they,
    Whose smiling wrecked thy hopes and thee."
Sail on, sail on,--thro' endless space--
    Thro' calm--thro' tempest--stop no more:
The stormiest sea's a resting place
    To him who leaves such hearts on shore.
Or--if some desert land we meet,
    Where never yet false-hearted men
Profaned a world, that else were sweet,--
    Then rest thee, bark, but not till then.

Thomas Moore