The Poetry Corner

Oh, Do Not Look So Bright And Blest.

By Thomas Moore

Oh, do not look so bright and blest, For still there comes a fear, When brow like thine looks happiest, That grief is then most near. There lurks a dread in all delight, A shadow near each ray, That warns us then to fear their flight, When most we wish their stay. Then look not thou so bright and blest, For ah! there comes a fear, When brow like thine looks happiest, That grief is then most near. Why is it thus that fairest things The soonest fleet and die?-- That when most light is on their wings, They're then but spread to fly! And, sadder still, the pain will stay-- The bliss no more appears; As rainbows take their light away, And leave us but the tears! Then look not thou so bright and blest, For ah! there comes a fear, When brow like thine looks happiest, That grief is then most near.