The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
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[Tell me not of joys above] |
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | ||
196
[Tell me not of joys above]
Tell me not of joys above,
If that world can give no bliss,
Truer, happier than the Love
Which enslaves our souls in this.
If that world can give no bliss,
Truer, happier than the Love
Which enslaves our souls in this.
Tell me not of Houris' eyes;—
Far from me their dangerous glow,
If those looks that light the skies
Wound like some that burn below.
Far from me their dangerous glow,
If those looks that light the skies
Wound like some that burn below.
Who, that feels what Love is here,
All its falsehood—all its pain—
Would, for ev'n Elysium's sphere,
Risk the fatal dream again?
All its falsehood—all its pain—
Would, for ev'n Elysium's sphere,
Risk the fatal dream again?
Who, that midst a desert's heat
Sees the waters fade away,
Would not rather die than meet
Streams again as false as they?
Sees the waters fade away,
Would not rather die than meet
Streams again as false as they?
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | ||