Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

To the Fire‑Fly

At morning, when the earth and sky
Are glowing with the light of spring,
We see thee not, thou humble fly!
Nor think upon thy gleaming wing.

But when the skies have lost their hue,
And sunny lights no longer play,
Oh then we see and bless thee too
For sparkling o'er the dreary way.

Thus let me hope, when lost to me
The lights that now my life illume,
Some milder joys may come, like thee,
To cheer, if not to warm, the gloom!

• немецкий (German)

1. From “Irish Melodies”. 47. What the Bee Is to the Floweret
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 32
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 26. Erin, Oh Erin
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 74
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 48

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