The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
 |
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|
[There's not a look, a word of thine] |
| III, IV. |
| V. |
| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
272
[There's not a look, a word of thine]
—λιβανοτω εικασεν, οτι απολλυμενον ευφραινει.
Aristot.
Rhetor. lib. iii. cap. 4.
There's not a look, a word of thine,
My soul hath e'er forgot;
Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine,
Nor giv'n thy locks one graceful twine
Which I remember not.
My soul hath e'er forgot;
Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine,
Nor giv'n thy locks one graceful twine
Which I remember not.
There never yet a murmur fell
From that beguiling tongue,
Which did not, with a lingering spell,
Upon my charmed senses dwell,
Like songs from Eden sung.
From that beguiling tongue,
Which did not, with a lingering spell,
Upon my charmed senses dwell,
Like songs from Eden sung.
Ah! that I could, at once, forget
All, all that haunts me so—
And yet, thou witching girl,—and yet,
To die were sweeter than to let
The lov'd remembrance go.
All, all that haunts me so—
And yet, thou witching girl,—and yet,
To die were sweeter than to let
The lov'd remembrance go.
273
No; if this slighted heart must see
Its faithful pulse decay,
Oh let it die, remembering thee,
And, like the burnt aroma, be
Consum'd in sweets away.
Its faithful pulse decay,
Oh let it die, remembering thee,
And, like the burnt aroma, be
Consum'd in sweets away.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |