Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 5
I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,|
If thy smiles had left me too;
I'd weep when friends deceive me,
If thou wert, like them, untrue.
But while I've thee before me,
With heart so warm and eyes so bright,
No clouds can linger o'er me,
That smile turns them all to light.
2. 'Tis not in fate to harm me,
3. And though the hope be gone, love,|
That long sparkled o'er our way,
Oh! we shall journey on, love,
More safely, without its ray.
Far better lights shall win me,
Along the path I've yet to roam
The mind that burns within me,
And pure smiles from thee at home.
4. Thus, when the lamp that lighted
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