Thomas Moore

May 28, 1780 - Feb 26, 1852


Odes To Nea: On The Loss Of A Letter Intended For Nea

Oh! it was fill'd with words of flame...

by Thomas Moore

Oh! it was fill'd with words of flame,
With all the wishes wild and dear,
Which love may write, but dares not name,
Which woman reads, but must not hear!

Of many a nightly dream it told,
When all that chills the heart by day,
The worldly doubt, the caution cold,
In Fancy's fire dissolve away!

When soul and soul divinely meet,
Free from the senses' guilty shame,
And mingle in a sigh so sweet,
As virtue's self would blush to blame!

How could he lose such tender words?
Words! that of themselves should spring
To Nea's ear, like panting birds,
With heart and soul upon their wing!

Oh! fancy what they dar'd to speak;
Think all a virgin's shame can dread,
Nor pause until thy conscious cheek
Shall burn with thinking all they said!

And I shall feign, shall fancy, too,
Some dear reply thou might'st have given
Shall make that lip distil its dew
In promise bland and hopes of heaven!

Shall think it tells of future days,
When the averted cheek will turn,
When eye with eye shall mingle rays,
And lip to lip shall closely burn! --

Ah! if this flattery is not thine,
If colder hope thy answer brings,
I'll wish thy words were lost like mine,
Since I can dream such dearer things!


The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
Copyright 1835
Philadelphia: J. Crissy, No. 4, Minor Street, and Desilver, Thomas, And Co., No. 247, Market Street