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244 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Sparkling Nore of the dells, oft my memory dwells
On the walks and the wells by thy side, On thy bridges and bow'rs, and where Ormonde's proud tow'rs
Chose to mirror their charms in thy tide, And thou rolling along in perpetual song,
All unchanged from the dear days of yore, When we roamed to and fro, hearts and faces aglow,
Where the primroses grow by the Nore.
Hearts and faces—alas ! deep down under the grass
Where no Spring winds can pass—there they lie And no sob can awake or no sorrow can break
Through their earth-shrouded sleep with its cry; In our hearts they're enshrined, with our lives they're entwined
Closer still than in dear days of yore, And together we'll go where the parted streams flow
When the primroses grow by the Nore. |
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