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Home  »  library  »  poem  »  Love’s Young Dream

C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Love’s Young Dream

By Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

OH! the days are gone, when beauty bright

My heart’s chain wove;

When my dream of life, from morn till night,

Was love, still love.

New hope may bloom,

And days may come

Of milder, calmer beam,

But there’s nothing half so sweet in life

As love’s young dream;

No, there’s nothing half so sweet in life

As love’s young dream.

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,

When wild youth’s past;

Though he win the wise, who frowned before,

To smile at last:

He’ll never meet

A joy so sweet,

In all his noon of fame,

As when first he sung to woman’s ear

His soul-felt flame,

And at every close she blushed to hear

The one loved name.

No, that hallowed form is ne’er forgot

Which first love traced;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot

On memory’s waste.

’Twas odor fled

As soon as shed;

’Twas morning’s winged dream:

’Twas a light that ne’er can shine again

On life’s dull stream;

Oh! ’twas light that ne’er can shine again

On life’s dull stream.