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i8z THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Sit by me, Margaret,
Dear Margaret, sit by my side;
For you loved my dearest daughter, far o'er the
world wide water, Who should have been our Patrick's bride. Oh ! sing me her songs,—for my poor heart longs To clasp her to my breast; Though tears it will bring, yet my darling must
sing What our Mary loved the best.
You are there, Patrick !
I feel your breathing soft upon my cheek;
A tear is in your eye, and well your heart knows why;
You are there I say, although you do not speak.
I have been to pleasant Meath, and to rich Fin-gal beneath,
And homeward I am going to the west;
And I thought as I did pass I would sing the "Colleen Dhas,"
That one you loved so well, and best.
Hark ! she sings.
Trembling over the strings her fingers stray ;
And the light that heaven denies to her clear but
darkened eyes, Her wreathed smiles and dimpling cheek betray. Oh! it is our "Colleen Dhas," as her pleasant
days did pass, Loudly lilting at the milking with the rest; Soon, soon, alas! in sighs and tears, she leaves
our longing eyes: The Mary we all loved the best. |
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