Enigma (Thomas Moore Poems)
Come riddle-me-ree, come riddle-me-ree, And tell me, what my name may be. I am nearly one hundred and thirty years ...
Come riddle-me-ree, come riddle-me-ree, And tell me, what my name may be. I am nearly one hundred and thirty years ...
Forget not the field where they perish'd, The truest, the last of the brave, All gone -- and the bright ...
How oft has the Benshee cried, How oft has death untied Bright links that Glory wove, Sweet bonds entwined by ...
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright My heart's chain wove; When my dream of life, from morn till ...
Oh! blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at Fame; He was ...
Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid: Sad, ...
Shall the Harp then be silent, when he who first gave To our country a name, is withdrawn from all ...
Silence is in our festal halls -- Sweet son of song! thy course is o'er; In vain on thee sad ...
Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to me Some song of ancient days, Whose sounds, in this sad memory, Long-buried dreams ...
Sublime was the warning that liberty spoke, And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke Into life and revenge from ...
Weep on, weep on, your hour is past, Your dreams of pride are o'er; The fatal chain is round you ...
When he, who adores thee, has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh! say wilt ...
While History's Muse the memorial was keeping Of all that the dark hand of Destiny weaves, Beside her the Genius ...
Drink of this cup; -- you'll find there's a spell in Its every drop 'gainst the ills of mortality; Talk ...
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