To Thomas Moore
My boat is on the shore,And my bark is on the sea;But, before I go, Tom Moore,Here's a double health to thee!
Here's a sigh to those who love me,And a smile to those who hate;And, whatever sky's above me,Here's a heart for every fate.
Though the Ocean roar around me,Yet it still shall bear me on;Though a desert shall surround me,It hath springs that may be won.
Were't the last drop in the well,As I gasped upon the brink,Ere my fainting spirit fell,'T is to thee that I would drink.
With that water, as this wine,The libation I would pourShould be--peace with thine and mine,And a health to thee, Tom Moore.
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