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6 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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JOHN LOCKE (1847-1889)
THE EXILE'S RETURN, OR MORNING ON THE IRISH COAST
r'H' andm an Dhia} But there it is — The dawn on the hills of Ireland ! God's angels lifting the night's black veil From the fair, sweet face of my sireland ! O Ireland isn't it grand you look — Like a bride in her rich adornin' ? And with all the pent-up love of my heart I bid you the top o' the mornin' !
This one short hour pays lavishly back
For many a year of mourning; I'd almost venture another flight,
There's so much joy in returning — Watching out for the hallowed shore,
All other attractions scornin': O Ireland ! don't you hear me shout ?
I bid you the top o' the mornin'.
Ho, ho ! upon Cleena's shelving strand
The surges are grandly beating, And Kerry is pushing her headlands out |
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l7J5* an&m an Dhiat my soul to God. |
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