248 Quotes by Thomas Moore

When Time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew.

This heart, my own dear mother, bends, With love's true instinct, back to thee!

The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! - the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

To love you was pleasant enough. And, oh! 'tis delicious to hate you!

Every season hath its pleasure; Spring may boast her flowery prime, Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.

T'is the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone.

This is the right time, and this is the right thing.

With what a deep devotedness of woe I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that, night and day, Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, grow pure by being purely shone upon.