Thomas Moore Poems
- Believe Me, If All Those Endea...
- At The Mid Hour Of Night At the mid hour of night, when stars...
- The Meeting Of The Waters There is not in the wide world a ...
- An Argument I've oft been told by learned friars, That ...
- After The Battle Night closed around the conqueror's way, ...
- As Slow Our Ship As slow our ship her foamy track Against ...
- Alone In Crowds To Wander On Alone in crowds to wander on, ...
Thomas Moore is an Irish poet, singer, songwriter, and entertainer, now best remembered for the lyrics of The Minstrel Boy and The Last Rose of Summer. He was responsible, with John Murray, for burning Lord Byron's memoirs after his death. In his lifetime he was often referred to as Anacreon Moore.
Thomas Moore was born at 12 Aungier-street in Dublin, Ireland, on 28 May 1779. over his father's grocery shop, his father being from an Irish speaking Gaeltacht in Kerry and his mother, Anastasia Codd, from Wexford. He had two younger sisters, Kate and Ellen.
From a relatively early age Moore showed an interest in music and other performing arts. He ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Quotationsmore quotations »
''A pretty wife is something for the fastidious vanity of a roué to retire upon.''Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. quoted by Lord Byron in a letter, Jan. 16, 1814. Byron's Letters and Journals, vol. 4 (1975).
''It is only to the happy that tears are a luxury.''Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. "Prologue No. 2," Lalla Rookh.
Comments about Thomas Moore
Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms
Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Live fairy-gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.
It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
No, the heart that has truly loved never ...