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Thomas Moore - Love`s Young Dream
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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 frown`d 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 blush`d to hear 
   The one loved name. 

No, — that hallow`d form is ne`er forgot 
Which first love traced; 
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot 
On memory`s waste. 
`Twas odour fled 
As soon as shed; 
   `Twas morning`s winged dream; 
`Twas a light, tht ne`er can shine again 
   On life`s dull stream: 
Oh! `twas light that n`er can shine again 
   On life`s dull stream.
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