The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
 | III, IV. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| V. |
| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
157
TO MISS SUSAN B*CKF---D.
ON HER SINGING.
I more than once have heard, at night,
A song, like those thy lip hath given,
And it was sung by shapes of light,
Who look'd and breath'd, like thee, of heaven.
A song, like those thy lip hath given,
And it was sung by shapes of light,
Who look'd and breath'd, like thee, of heaven.
But this was all a dream of sleep,
And I have said, when morning shone,
“Why should the night-witch, Fancy, keep
“These wonders for herself alone?”
And I have said, when morning shone,
“Why should the night-witch, Fancy, keep
“These wonders for herself alone?”
I knew not then that fate had lent
Such tones to one of mortal birth;
I knew not then that Heaven had sent
A voice, a form like thine on earth.
Such tones to one of mortal birth;
I knew not then that Heaven had sent
A voice, a form like thine on earth.
158
And yet, in all that flowery maze
Through which my path of life has led,
When I have heard the sweetest lays
From lips of rosiest lustre shed;
Through which my path of life has led,
When I have heard the sweetest lays
From lips of rosiest lustre shed;
When I have felt the warbled word
From Beauty's lip, in sweetness vying
With music's own melodious bird,
When on the rose's bosom lying;
From Beauty's lip, in sweetness vying
With music's own melodious bird,
When on the rose's bosom lying;
Though form and song at once combin'd
Their loveliest bloom and softest thrill,
My heart hath sigh'd, my ear hath pin'd
For something lovelier, softer still:—
Their loveliest bloom and softest thrill,
My heart hath sigh'd, my ear hath pin'd
For something lovelier, softer still:—
Oh, I have found it all, at last,
In thee, thou sweetest living lyre,
Through which the soul of song e'er pass'd,
Or feeling breath'd its sacred fire.
In thee, thou sweetest living lyre,
Through which the soul of song e'er pass'd,
Or feeling breath'd its sacred fire.
All that I e'er, in wildest flight
Of fancy's dreams, could hear or see
Of music's sigh or beauty's light
Is realiz'd, at once, in thee!
Of fancy's dreams, could hear or see
Of music's sigh or beauty's light
Is realiz'd, at once, in thee!
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |