 | Specimens of American poetry |  |
SONG.
Tom Moore, again we're met—
By the sparkles of thine eye,
By thy lip with bright wine wet,
Thou art glad as well as I.
And thine eye shall gleam the brighter
Ere our meeting shall be o'er
And thy minstrelsy flow lighter
With our healths to thee, Tom Moore.
By the sparkles of thine eye,
By thy lip with bright wine wet,
Thou art glad as well as I.
And thine eye shall gleam the brighter
Ere our meeting shall be o'er
And thy minstrelsy flow lighter
With our healths to thee, Tom Moore.
For thy boyish songs of woman
Thrown about like unstrung pearls,
Ere thy armed spirit's summon
Bade thee leave thy bright-hair'd girls;
For thy satire's quenchless arrows
On the foes thy country bore,
For thy song of Erin's sorrows,
Here 's health to thee, Tom Moore.
Thrown about like unstrung pearls,
Ere thy armed spirit's summon
Bade thee leave thy bright-hair'd girls;
For thy satire's quenchless arrows
On the foes thy country bore,
For thy song of Erin's sorrows,
Here 's health to thee, Tom Moore.
Drink to Moore, drink to Moore—
What though England renounce him,
Her dark days shall soon be o'er,
And her brightest band surrounds him.
In the land, then, of the vine,
To thee, its glittering drops we pour,
And in warmest, reddest wine,
Drink a health to thee, Tom Moore.
What though England renounce him,
Her dark days shall soon be o'er,
And her brightest band surrounds him.
In the land, then, of the vine,
To thee, its glittering drops we pour,
And in warmest, reddest wine,
Drink a health to thee, Tom Moore.
| Specimens of American poetry | |