A Night Song

The young May moon is beaming; love,
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming,
How sweet to rove through Morna's grove,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!
Then awake! The heav'ns look bright, my dear,
'Tis ne'er too late for delight,
and best of all the ways to lengthen days
is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear,
When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!

- Thomas Moore

How Sweet the Answer Echo Makes

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light!

Yet love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet,
Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star,
Of horn, or lute, or soft guitar,
The songs repeat.

'Tis when the sigh, in youth sincere,
And only then,
The sigh that's breath'd for one to hear,
Is by that one, that only dear,
Breath'd back again.

- Thomas Moore

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