As slow our ship by Thomas Moore.

Part 1 of 2.

AS slow our

ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still looked back
To that dear isle ’t was leaving.
So loath we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us;
So turn our hearts, as on we rove,
To those we ’ve left behind us!

When, round the bowl, of vanished years
We talk with joyous seeming,—
With smiles that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming;
While memory brings us back again
Each early tie that twined us,
O, sweet ’s the cup that circles then
To those we ’ve left behind us!