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Books Books 31 - 40 of 110 on Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing. Oh! stay,....
" Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing. Oh! stay, — Oh! stay, — Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that, oh ! 'tis pain To break its links so soon. "
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Including His Melodies, Ballads, Etc ... - Page 293
by Thomas Moore - 1829 - 408 pages
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore, Volume 4

Thomas Moore - 1856
...only throb she gives, Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives. FLY NOT YET. FLY not yet, 'tis just, the hour "When pleasure, like...hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made ; 'Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing. Oh! stay, — Oh! stay,...
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Poetry and Pictures from Thomas Moore

Thomas Moore - 1858 - 336 pages
...farewell kiss — The words, whose parting tone Lingers still in dreams of bliss, ; FF,Y NOT YF,T. FA" not yet, 'tis just the hour, When pleasure, like the midnight flower That seorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon. 'Twas...
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Poetical works, with a life of the author (abridged from W. Howitt).

Thomas Moore - 1859
...throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives. FLY NOT YET. Fr.T not yet ; 'tis just the hour , When pleasure, like...bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon. 'Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made ; 'Tis then their soft attractions...
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: With Explanatory Notes, Etc

Thomas Moore - 1866 - 490 pages
...only throb she gives, Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives. FLY NOT YET. FLY not yet, 'tis just the hour. When pleasure, like...That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom fer sons of night, And maids who love the moon ! 'Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty...
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One Hundred Songs of Ireland: Music and Words

Folk songs, Irish - 1859 - 64 pages
...must endure the smart, love, And tumble in straw all alone. Yet still he cried, &c. FLY NOT YET. m Ш Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like the mid-night flow'r. That gn r : hUfeH^^F scorns the eye of vnl - gar light, Be- gins to bloom for song of night,...
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A selection of Irish melodies, songs, and poems, Volume 1000

Thomas Moore - Folk songs, Irish - 1859 - 160 pages
...giv.-, Is the pride of thus dying for thec ! FLY NOT YET, 'TIS JUST THE HOUR, Air— "Planxty Kelly." FLY not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flow'r, That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night, And maids that love...
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Irish melodies, songs, and poems

Thomas Moore - 1859
...luug aud too melancholy to he inserted here. FLY NOT YET, 'TIS JUST THE HOUR. Air— " Plainly Kelly." FLY not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flow'r. That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night, And maids that love...
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The Land of Gold Or: Three Years in California [1846-1849]

Walter Colton - California - 1860 - 456 pages
...were only out hunting the gazelle. Just list the numbers as they break from her thoughtless heart:— Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like...bloom for sons of night, And maids -who love the moon ! And yet that moon before it wanes may gleam upon her father's grave. But she knows it not. She thinks...
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Poetical Works

Thomas Moore - 1861 - 747 pages
...throb she gives, Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives. FLY NOT YET FLT not yet, 'tis just the hour, When pleasure, like the...bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon. 'Twas bat to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made; 'Tis then their soft attractions...
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The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with illustr. by K. Halswelle

Thomas Moore - 1863
...The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant bre To shew that still she lives. FLY NOT YET. FLY not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like...bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon ! 'Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made ; 'Tis then their soft...
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