by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)

Come o'er the sea
Language: English 
Come o'er the sea, 
Maiden, with me, 
Mine thro' sunshine, storm and snows! 
Seasons may roll, 
But the true soul  
Burns the same, where'er it goes.  

Let fate frown on, 
So we love and part not; 
'Tis life where thou art, 
'Tis death where thou art not! 

Then come o'er the sea, 
Maiden, with me, 
Come wherever the wild wind blows; 
Seasons may roll, 
But the true soul 
Burns the same, where'er it goes. 

Is not the sea 
Made for the free, 
Land for courts and chains alone? 
Here we are slaves, 
But, on the waves, 
Love and Liberty's all our own! 

No eye to watch, 
And no tongue to wound us, 
All earth forgot, 
And all heaven around us!  

Then come o'er the sea, 
Maiden, with me, 
Mine thro' sunshine, storm and snows! 
Seasons may roll, 
But the true soul 
Burns the same, where'er it goes.

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with Irish Melodies, by Thomas Moore, London: J. Power, 1821, pages 131 - .


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Researcher for this page: Melanie Trumbull

This text was added to the website: 2020-03-30
Line count: 32
Word count: 147