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Thomas Moore Quotes

1779–1852 Ireland

Thomas Moore (May 28, 1779 – February 25, 1852) was an Irish poet and hymnist, now best remembered for the lyrics of The Last Rose of Summer.

Ireland
Composers
Hymnwriters
Novelists
Poets

Also known as: Moore, Thomas

Random Thomas Moore quote

160 quotes

Disguise our bondage as we will,
'Tis woman, woman rules us still.

Life is a waste of wearisome hours
Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns;
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers,
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

Irish Melodies (1807)

Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy'd,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy'd!

Lalla Rookh (1817)

One sole desire, one passion now remains
To keep life's fever still within his veins,
Vengeance! dire vengeance on the wretch who cast
O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast.

Lalla Rookh (1817)

Ask a woman's advice, and, whate'er she advise,
Do the very reverse and you're sure to be wise.

Irish Melodies (1807)

You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Irish Melodies (1807)

Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun,
Grow pure by being purely shone upon.

Lalla Rookh (1817)

Accurst is the march of that glory
Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.

Irish Melodies (1807)

Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
And multiply each through endless years,—
One minute of heaven is worth them all.

Lalla Rookh (1817)

And soon, too soon, we part with pain,
To sail o'er silent seas again.

Where bastard Freedom waves
The fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed (1919)

When did morning ever break,
And find such beaming eyes awake?

Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed (1919)

Yes, loving is a painful thrill,
And not to love more painful still;
But oh, it is the worst of pain,
To love and not be lov'd again.

I feel like one,
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!

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.

Irish Melodies (1807)

One of those passing rainbow dreams,
Half light, half shade, which fancy's beams
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll,
In trance or slumber, round the soul!

Lalla Rookh (1817)

This world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given;
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,—
There's nothing true but Heaven.

Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed (1919)

Patience lingers o'er the weedy shore,
And, mutely waiting till the storm be o'er,
Turns to young Hope, who still directs his eye
To some blue spot, just breaking in the sky!

No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.

Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed (1919)

Oh! if there be, on this earthly sphere,
A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear,
'Tis the last libation Liberty draws
From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!

Lalla Rookh (1817)

Attribution

Quotes and notes from Wikiquote: Thomas Moore (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0.