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by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)

This world is all a fleeting show
Language: English 
This world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given; 
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow -- 
There's nothing true but heaven!
And false the light on glory's plume, 
As fading hues of even;
And love and hope and beauty's bloom,
are blossoms gathered for the tomb;
There's nothing bright but heaven. 
Poor wonderers of a stormy day!  
From wave to wave we're driven,
And fancy's flash and reason's ray
Serve but to light the troubled way -- 
There's nothing calm but heaven.

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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2003-11-03
Line count: 15
Word count: 88