Thomas Moore

(28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852 / Dublin)

On Music - Poem by Thomas Moore

When through life unblest we rove,
Losing all that made life dear,
Should some notes we used to love,
In days of boyhood, meet our ear,
Oh! how welcome breathes the strain!
Wakening thoughts that long have slept,
Kindling former smiles again
In faded eyes that long have wept.

Like the gale, that sighs along
Beds of oriental flowers,
Is the grateful breath of song,
That once was heard in happier hours.
Fill'd with balm the gale sighs on,
Though the flowers have sunk in death;
So, when pleasure's dream is gone,
Its memory lives in Music's breath.

Music, oh, how faint, how weak,
Language fades before thy spell!
Why should Feeling ever speak,
When thou canst breathe her soul so well?
Friendship's balmy words may feign,
Love's are even more false than they;
Oh! 'tis only music's strain
Can sweetly soothe, and not betray.


Comments about On Music by Thomas Moore

  • Moira Cameron (3/3/2016 10:40:00 AM)


    That last verse captures so well what every musician knows to his core! I knew a young boy who suffered from emotional trauma. When he heard Beethoven for the first time (at the age of 7 or 8) he remarked: How can Beethoven know how I am feeling? (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
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  • (8/3/2015 5:39:00 PM)


    Oh! Such truth in thy words
    For they revive my broken dreams
    Music as thy said
    Royalty undefined by words
    But believe when I only here retaliate
    `Tis beauty in words is sweet music to me
    (Report) Reply

  • Brian Jani (6/19/2014 1:03:00 PM)


    Music is a truly magical gift, one has to listen keenly to discover it (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »



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Read poems about / on: music, memory, song, dream, death, life, love, flower, lost, sleep, smile



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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