The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
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| III, IV. |
| V. |
| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
188
HOW HAPPY, ONCE.
How happy, once, tho' wing'd with sighs,
My moments flew along,
While looking on those smiling eyes,
And list'ning to thy magic song!
But vanish'd 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 alter'd vow,
While others feel thy sunshine now.
My moments flew along,
While looking on those smiling eyes,
And list'ning to thy magic song!
But vanish'd 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 alter'd 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 wither'd then!
Cold its pulse lies,
And mute are ev'n its sighs,
All other grief it now defies.
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;
189
And wither'd then!
Cold its pulse lies,
And mute are ev'n its sighs,
All other grief it now defies.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |