Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

So warmly we met and so fondly we parted,

    That which was the sweeter even I could not tell,—

That first look of welcome her sunny eyes darted,

    Or that tear of passion, which blest our farewell.

To meet was a heaven and to part thus another,—

    Our joy and our sorrow seemed rivals in bliss;

Oh! Cupid’s two eyes are not liker each other

    In smiles and in tears than that moment to this.

The first was like day-break, new, sudden, delicious,—

    The dawn of a pleasure scarce kindled up yet;

The last like the farewell of daylight, more precious,

    More glowing and deep, as ’tis nearer its set.

Our meeting, tho’ happy, was tinged by a sorrow

    To think that such happiness could not remain;

While our parting, tho’ sad, gave a hope that to-morrow

    Would bring back the blest hour of meeting again.