Common Sense And Genius. (French Air.)

A poem by Thomas Moore

While I touch the string,
Wreathe my brows with laurel,
For the tale I sing
Has, for once, a moral.
Common Sense, one night,
Tho' not used to gambols,
Went out by moonlight,
With Genius, on his rambles.
While I touch the string, etc.

Common Sense went on,
Many wise things saying;
While the light that shone
Soon set Genius straying.
One his eye ne'er raised
From the path before him;
T'other idly gazed
On each night-cloud o'er him.
While I touch the string, etc.

So they came, at last,
To a shady river;
Common Sense soon past,
Safe, as he doth ever;
While the boy, whose look
Was in Heaven that minute.
Never saw the brook,
But tumbled headlong in it!
While I touch the string, etc.

How the Wise One smiled,
When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,
Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;
Genius, left to shiver
On the bank, 'tis said,
Died of that cold river!
While I touch the string, etc.

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