THE JOURNEY ONWARDS. by T. MOORE.
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| THE JOURNEY ONWARDS. | |
As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still look'd back To that dear isle 'twas leaving. So loth we part from all we love, From all the links that bind us; So turn our hearts, as on we rove, To those we've left behind us! When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years We talk with joyous seeming-- With smiles that might as well be tears, So faint, so sad their beaming; While memory brings us back again Each early tie that twined us, Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then To those we've left behind us! And when in other climes, we meet Some isle or vale enchanting, Where all looks flowery wild and sweet, And nought but love is wanting; We think how great had been our bliss If Heaven had but assign'd us To live and die in scenes like this, With some we've left behind us! As travellers oft look back at eve When eastward darkly going, To gaze upon that light they leave Still faint behind them glowing,-- So, when the close of pleasure's day To gloom hath near consign'd us, We turn to catch our fading ray Of joy that's left behind us. |
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| T. MOORE., THE GOLDEN TREASURY Of the best Songs and Lyrical Pieces In the English Language Selected by Francis Turner Palgrave | |
| Tags: travel, journey, loss, sea | |
