Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns <br />One charm of feeling, one fond regret; <br />Believe me, a few of thy angry frowns <br />Are all I've sunk in its bright wave yet. <br />Ne'er hath a beam <br />Been lost in the stream <br />That ever was shed from thy form or soul; <br />The spell of those eyes, <br />The balm of thy sighs, <br />Still float on the surface, and hallow by bowl. <br />Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal <br />One blissful dream of the heart from me; <br />Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, <br />The bowl but brightens my love for thee. <br /> <br />They tell us the Love in his fairy bower <br />Had two blush-roses, of birth divine; <br />He sprinkled the one with a rainbow's shower, <br />But bathed the other with mantling wine. <br />Soon did the buds <br />That drunk of the floods <br />Distill'd by the rainbow decline and fade; <br />While those which the tide <br />Of ruby had dyed <br />All blush'd into beauty, like thee, sweet maid! <br />Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal <br />One blissful dream of the heart from me; <br />Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, <br />The bowl but brightens my love for thee.<br /><br />Thomas Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nay-tell-me-not-dear-2/
