Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

          BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms,

                Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

          Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,

                Like fairy-gifts fading away,

          Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

                Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

          And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart,

                Would entwine itself verdantly still.

          It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

                And thy cheek unprofaned by a tear,

          That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,

                To which time will not make thee more dear:

          No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,

                But as truly loves on to the close,

          As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,

                The same look which she turn’d when he rose.