SHINE soft, ye trembling tears of light <br />That strew the mourning skies; <br />Hushed in the silent dews of night <br />The harp of Erin lies. <br /> <br />What though her thousand years have past <br />Of poets, saints, and kings,-- <br />Her echoes only hear the last <br />That swept those golden strings. <br /> <br />Fling o'er his mound, ye star-lit bowers, <br />The balmiest wreaths ye wear, <br />Whose breath has lent your earth-born flowers <br />Heaven's own ambrosial air. <br /> <br />Breathe, bird of night, thy softest tone, <br />By shadowy grove and rill; <br />Thy song will soothe us while we own <br />That his was sweeter still. <br /> <br />Stay, pitying Time, thy foot for him <br />Who gave thee swifter wings, <br />Nor let thine envious shadow dim <br />The light his glory flings. <br /> <br />If in his cheek unholy blood <br />Burned for one youthful hour, <br />'T was but the flushing of the bud <br />That blooms a milk-white flower. <br /> <br />Take him, kind mother, to thy breast, <br />Who loved thy smiles so well, <br />And spread thy mantle o'er his rest <br />Of rose and asphodel. <br /> <br />The bark has sailed the midnight sea, <br />The sea without a shore, <br />That waved its parting sign to thee,-- <br />'A health to thee, Tom Moore!' <br /> <br />And thine, long lingering on the strand, <br />Its bright-hued streamers furled, <br />Was loosed by age, with trembling hand, <br />To seek the silent world. <br /> <br />Not silent! no, the radiant stars <br />Still singing as they shine, <br />Unheard through earth's imprisoning bars, <br />Have voices sweet as thine. <br /> <br />Wake, then, in happier realms above, <br />The songs of bygone years, <br />Till angels learn those airs of love <br />That ravished mortal ears!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-a-lecture-on-moore/
