To sigh, yet feel no pain;
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by.
-- Thomas Moore (1779-1852)
-- The Blue Stocking
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by.
-- Thomas Moore (1779-1852)
-- The Blue Stocking
Related:
- Oh stay! oh stay!
Joy so seldom weaves a chain
Like this to-night,
that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon. ... - Fly not yet; 't is just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love... - Oh, weep for the hour
When to Eveleen's bower
The lord of the valley with false vows came.
Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Eveleen's... - Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, You, with your fresh... - When did morning ever break,
And find such beaming eyes awake?
Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Fly not... - It was the saying of Bion, that though the boys throw stones at frogs
in sport,
yet the frogs do not die in sport but in earnest. ... - Sorry Pee-Wee',
that's not an exibition sport yet... - Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
Ah, fields beloved in vain!
Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger... - To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan,
The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for...
