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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 524

Thomas Moore. (1779–1852) (continued)
But high she shoots through air and light,
  Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
  Nor shadow dims her way.
          Oh that I had Wings.
    This world is all a fleeting show,
  For man’s illusion given;
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,—
  There ’s nothing true but Heaven.
          This World is all a fleeting Show.
    Sound the loud timbrel o’er Egypt’s dark sea!
Jehovah has triumph’d,—his people are free.
          Sound the loud Timbrel.
    As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean
  Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,
So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,
  Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee.

As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,
  The needle points faithfully o’er the dim sea,
So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded,
  The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.
          The Heart’s Prayer.
    Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
          Come, ye Disconsolate.
    Oh call it by some better name,
  For friendship sounds too cold.
          Oh call it by some better Name.
    When twilight dews are falling soft
  Upon the rosy sea, love,
I watch the star whose beam so oft
  Has lighted me to thee, love.
          When Twilight Dews.