Thomas Moore


Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side
In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree?

Come, send round the Wine.

When Time who steals our years away
Shall steal our pleasures too,
The mem’ry of the past will stay,
And half our joys renew.

Weep on! and as thy sorrows flow,
I ‘ll taste the luxury of woe.

There was a little man, and he had a little soul;
And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!

Little Man and Little Soul.

Go where glory waits thee!
But while fame elates thee,
Oh, still remember me!

Go where Glory waits thee.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

Oh breathe not his Name.