Thomas Moore Quotes

Yet, who can help loving the land that has taught us Six hundred and eighty-five ways to dress eggs?

Oh! ever thus, from childhood’s hour, I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But ’twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die!

The harp that once through Tara’s halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls As if that soul were fled.

The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you’ll find him; His father’s sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him.