Beauty and Song
Thomas Moore
1779 to 1852
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Down in yon summer vale,
Where the rill flows.
Thus said a Nightingale
To his loved Rose:—
"Tho' rich the pleasures
"Of song's sweet measures,
"Vain were melody,
"Rose, without thee."
Then from the green
Of her night-bower,
Beaming with bashfulness,
Spoke bright flower:—
"Tho' morn should lend her
"Its sunniest splendor,
"What would the Rose be,
"Unsung by thee?"
still let Song attend
Woman's bright way;
Thus let woman lend
Light to the lay.
Like thro' heaven's sea
Floating in harmony
Beauty should glide
Circled by Song.