Poems by Thomas Moore

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You are now in the place where we share poems of well-known poets, often from the list “Best Poems” and “Best Poets”. Poems are presented in the most popular topic categories. Due to copyright we only present the poems of those poets who passed away some time ago and therefore, you will not find poems of contemporary poets here. We invite you to familiarise yourself with the poems available here and we hope you will enjoy reading. The poems found here you can easily add to the free ecards from our site, and then send ecards to friends. Love poems are particularly great for that. Beautiful poetry added to an ecard can be a lovely surprise for the addressee. Except reading ready poems, you can add your own, original poems here. You only need to sign up for a free User Account. Certainly we all greatly enjoy beautiful poetry and reading poems is a very pleasant past time.

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They Know Not My Heart



They know not my heart, who believe there can be
One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee;
Who think, while I see thee in beauty's young hour,
As pure as the morning's first dew on the flower,
I could harm what I love, — as the sun's wanton ray
But smiles on the dew-drop to waste it away.

No — beaming with light as those young features are,
There's a light round thy heart which is lovelier far:
It is not that cheek — 'tis the soul dawning clear
Through its innocent blush makes thy beauty so dear:
As the sky we look up to, though glorious and fair,
Is look'd up to the more, because Heaven lies there!

Poems by Thomas Moore

'Tis Sweet to Think



'Tis sweet to think that, where'er we rove,
We are sure to find something blissful and dear,
And that, when we're far from the lips that we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near.
The heart, like a tendril, accustom'd to cling,
Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish alone,
But will lean to the nearest and loveliest thing
It can twine with itself, and make closely its own.
Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove,
To be sure to find something, still, that is dear,
And to know, when far from the lips we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near.

'Twere a shame, when flowers around us rise,
To make light of the rest, if the rose isn't there,
And the world's so rich in resplendent eyes,
'Twere a pity to limit one's love to a pair....

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Poems by Thomas Moore

'Tis the Last Rose of Summer



'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone:
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead....

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Poems by Thomas Moore

Twas One of Those Dreams



'TWAS one of those dreams, that by music are brought,
Like a bright summer haze, o'er the poet's warm thought —
When, lost in the future, his soul wanders on,
And all of this life, but its sweetness, is gone.

The wild notes he heard o'er the water were those
He had taught to sing Erin's dark bondage and woes,
And the breath of the bugle now wafted them o'er
From Dinis' green isle, to Glena's wooded shore.

He listen'd — while, high o'er the eagle's rude nest,
The lingering sounds on their way loved to rest;
And the echoes sung back from their full mountain quire,
As if loath to let song to enchanting expire....

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Poems by Thomas Moore

When First I Met Thee



When first I met thee, warm and young,
There shone such truth about thee,
And on thy lip such promise hung,
I did not dare to doubt thee.
I saw thee change, yet still relied,
Still clung with hope the fonder,
And thought, though false to all beside,
From me thou couldst not wander.
But go, deceiver! go,
The heart, whose hopes could make it
Trust one so false, so low,
Deserves that thou shouldst break it.

When every tongue thy follies named,
I fled the unwelcome story,
Or found, in even the faults they blamed,
Some gleams of future glory....

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Poems by Thomas Moore

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