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1779–1852

WITH MOONLIGHT BEAMING.

Thomas Moore

With moonlight beaming Thus o'er the deep, Who'd linger dreaming In idle sleep?

Leave joyless souls to live by day,— Our life begins with yonder ray; And while thus brightly The moments flee,

Our barks skim lightly The shining sea. To halls of splendor Let great ones hie;

Thro’ light more tender Our pathways lie. While round, from banks of brook or lake, Our company blithe echoes make;

And as we lend‘ em Sweet word or strain, Still back they send‘ em More sweet again.

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WITH MOONLIGHT BEAMING. · Thomas Moore · Poetry Cove