To Thomas Moore

My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea; But, before I go, Tom Moore, Here's a double health to thee!

Here's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate; And, whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate.

Though the Ocean roar around me, Yet it still shall bear me on; Though a desert shall surround me, It hath springs that may be won.

Were't the last drop in the well, As I gasped upon the brink, Ere my fainting spirit fell, 'T is to thee that I would drink.

With that water, as this wine, The libation I would pour Should be--peace with thine and mine, And a health to thee, Tom Moore.