---

Thomas Moore - When ’Midst The Gay I Meet
Work rating: Low

When ’midst the gay I meet 
      That gentle smile of thine, 
Though still on me it turns most sweet, 
      I scarce can call it mine: 
But when to me alone 
      Your secret tears you show, 
Oh, then I feel those tears my own, 
      And claim them while they flow. 
Then still with bright looks bless 
      The gay, the cold, the free; 
Give smiles to those who love you less, 
      But keep your tears for me. 

The snow on Jura’s steep 
      Can smile in many a beam, 
Yet still in chains of coldness sleep, 
      How bright soe’er it seem. 
But, when some deep-felt ray, 
      Whose touch is fire, appears, 
Oh, then the smile is warm’d away, 
      And, melting, turns to tears. 
Then still with bright looks bless 
      The gay, the cold, the free; 
Give smiles to those who love you less, 
      But keep your tears for me.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.