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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS |
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And might the singer claim a sigh, he too, could
tell how, tost Upon the stranger's dreary shore, his heart's best
hopes were lost; How he, too, pined to hear the tones of friendship
greet his ear, And pined, to walk the riverside, to youthful musing
dear, And pined, with yearning silent love, amongst his own
to stay — Alas; it is so sad to be an exile far away.
Then, oh ! when round the Christmas board, or by the Christmas hearth,
That glorious mingled draught is poured,—wine, melody and mirth —
When friends long absent tell, low-toned, their joys and sorrows o'er,
And hand grasps hand, and eyelids fill, and lips meet lips once more —
In that bright hour, perhaps—perhaps, some woman's voice would say —
" Think—think, on those who weep to-night, poor exiles, far away." |
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