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 for those that love me,
And a smile for 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 should 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
’Tis 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!

Lord Byron.