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1779–1852

ONE DEAR SMILE.

Thomas Moore

Couldst thou look as dear as when First I sighed for thee; Couldst thou make me feel again Every wish I breathed thee then,

Oh, how blissful life would be! Hopes that now beguiling leave me, Joys that lie in slumber cold — All would wake, couldst thou but give me

One dear smile like those of old. No — there's nothing left us now, But to mourn the past; Vain was every ardent vow —

Never yet did Heaven allow Love so warm, so wild, to last. Not even hope could now deceive me — Life itself looks dark and cold;

Oh, thou never more canst give me One dear smile like those of old

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ONE DEAR SMILE. · Thomas Moore · Poetry Cove