To Thomas Moore

My boat is on the shore, 
And my bark is on the sea; 
But, before I go, Tom Moore, 
Here's a double health to thee! 

Here's a sigh to those who love me, 
And a smile to those who hate;
And, whatever sky's above me, 
Here's a heart for every fate. 

Though the ocean roar around me, 
Yet it still shall bear me on:
Though a desert should surround me, 
It hath springs that may be won. 

Were't the last drop in the well, 
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell, 
'T is to thee that I would drink. 

With that water, as this wine, 
The libation I would pour 
Should be — peace with thine and mine, 
And a health to thee, Tom Moore.