Oh! Tis Sweet to Think - The Moorings

Oh!

'tis sweet to think, that, where’er we rove

We are sure to find something blissful and dear

And that, when we’re far from the lips we love

We have but to make love to the lips we are near!

The heart, like a tendril, accustom’d to cling

Let it grow where it will, cannot flourish alone

But will lean to the nearest and loveliest thing

It can twine with itself, and make closely its own

Then oh!

what pleasure, where’er we rove

To be sure to find something still that is dear

And to know, when far from the lips we love

We have but to make love to the lips we are near

'Twere a shame, when flowers around us rise

To make light of the rest, if the rose isn’t there;

And the world’s so rich in resplendent eyes

'Twas a pity to limit one’s love to a pair

Love’s wing and the peacock’s are nearly alike

They are both of them bright, but they’re changeable too

And wherever a new beam of beauty can strike

It will tincture Love’s plume with a different hue!

Then, oh!

what pleasure, where’er we rove

To be sure to find something still that is dear

And to know, when far from the lips we love

We have but to make love to the lips that are near