When ’Midst the Gay I Meet

By Thomas Moore 1779–1852 Thomas Moore

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.

Biography

Thomas Moore was closely attuned to the taste and artistic sensibility of his age, but he is remembered now primarily by the Irish, who still sing his songs and claim him as their own. He was a born lyricist and a natural musician, a practiced satirist and one of the first recognized champions of freedom of Ireland. With George Gordon, Lord Byron, and Sir Walter Scott, he embodied British Romanticism not only for the British and . . .

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