UNPUBLISHED VERSES OF THOMAS MOORE.
Bright leaf, when storms thy bloom shall wither,
Oh, fly for calm and shelter hither;
And I will prize thy tints as truly
As when in Spring they blossom newly.
Bright leaf, when storms thy blooms shall wither,
Oh, fly for calm and shelter hither.
Sweet maid, while hope and rapture cheer thee,
’Tis not for me to linger near thee;
But when joys fade and hope deceives thee,
When all that soothes and flatters leaves thee—
Oh, then, how sweet in one forsaken,
Fresh hopes and joys again to waken!