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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
Moore, Thomas (1779-1852)
  
[dedication]

expand sectionI, II. 
VOL. I., VOL. II. ODES OF ANACREON. JUVENILE POEMS. POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA.
expand sectionIII, IV. 
VOL. III., VOL. IV. CORRUPTION AND INTOLERANCE. THE SCEPTIC. TWOPENNY POST-BAG. SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. IRISH MELODIES. NATIONAL AIRS. SACRED SONGS.
expand sectionV. 
VOL. V. EVENINGS IN GREECE. BALLADS, SONGS, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, ETC. ETC.
collapse sectionVI, VII. 
VOL. VI., VOL. VII. LALLA ROOKH. POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS. THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS. FABLES FOR THE HOLY ALLIANCE. RHYMES ON THE ROAD. AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
  
[dedication]
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LALLA ROOKH.
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POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS.
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THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS.
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FABLES FOR THE HOLY ALLIANCE.
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RHYMES ON THE ROAD,
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
  
OCCASIONAL EPILOGUE,
  
EXTRACT FROM A PROLOGUE WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY THE AUTHOR, AT THE OPENING OF THE KILKENNY THEATRE, OCTOBER, 1809.
  
THE SYLPH'S BALL.
  
REMONSTRANCE.
  
MY BIRTH-DAY.
  
FANCY.
  
FANNY, DEAREST!
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TRANSLATIONS FROM CATULLUS.
  
TIBULLUS TO SULPICIA.
  
IMITATION FROM THE FRENCH.
  
INVITATION TO DINNER,
  
VERSES TO THE POET CRABBE'S INKSTAND.
  
TO CAROLINE, VISCOUNTESS VALLETORT.
  
A SPECULATION.
  
TO MY MOTHER.
  
LOVE AND HYMEN.
  
LINES ON THE ENTRY OF THE AUSTRIANS INTO NAPLES, 1821.
expand sectionVIII, IX. 
VOL. VIII., VOL. IX THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. THE FUDGES IN ENGLAND. MISCELLANEOUS.
expand sectionX. 
VOL. X. THE EPICUREAN. ALCIPHRON.

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370

FANNY, DEAREST!

SONG.

Yes! had I leisure to sigh and mourn,
Fanny dearest, for thee I'd sigh;
And every smile on my cheek should turn
To tears when thou art nigh.
But, between love, and wine, and sleep,
So busy a life I live,
That even the time it would take to weep
Is more than my heart can give.
Then wish me not to despair and pine,
Fanny, dearest of all the dears!
The Love that's order'd to bathe in wine,
Would be sure to take cold in tears.
Reflected bright in this heart of mine,
Fanny dearest, thy image lies;
But, ah! the mirror would cease to shine,
If dimm'd too often with sighs.
371

They lose the half of beauty's light,
Who view it through sorrow's tear;
And 'tis but to see thee truly bright
That I keep my eye-beams clear.
Then wait no longer till tears shall flow—
Fanny, dearest! the hope is vain;
If sunshine cannot dissolve thy snow,
I shall never attempt it with rain.
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