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Thomas Moore - Thee, Thee, Only Thee
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The dawning of morn, the daylight`s sinking, 
The night`s long hours still find me thinking 
   Of thee, thee, only thee. 
When friends are met, and goblets crown`d, 
   And smiles are near, that once enchanted, 
Unreach`d by all that sunshine round, 
   My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted 
By thee, thee, only thee. 

Whatever in fame`s high path could waken 
My spirit once, is now forsaken 
   For thee, thee, only thee. 
Like shores, by which some headlong bark 
   To the ocean hurries, resting never, 
Life`s scenes go by me, bright or dark, 
   I know not, heed not, hastening ever 
To thee, thee, only thee. 

I have not a joy but of thy bringing, 
And pain itself seems sweet when springing 
   From thee, thee, only thee. 
Like spells, that nought on earth can break, 
   Till lips, that know the charm, have spoken, 
This heart, howe`er the world may wake 
   Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken 
By thee, thee, only thee.
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