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HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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At Beauty's door of glass
When Wealth and Wit once stood, They asked her, "Which might pass?"
She answered, "He who could" With golden key Wealth thought
To pass—but 'twould not do; While Wit a diamond brought.
Which cut his bright way through. So here's to her who long
Hath waked the poet's sigh, The girl who gave to song
What gold could never buy. The love that seeks a home
Where wealth and grandeur shine, Is like the gloomy gnome
That dwells In the dark gold-mine. But oh! the poet's love
Can boast a brighter sphere; Its native home's above,
Though women keep it here. Then drink to her who long
Hath waked the poet's sigh, The girl who gave to song
What gold could never buy. |
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ERIN, 0 ERIN!
Like the bright lamp that shone in Klldare's holy fane,
And burned through long ages of darkness and storm, Is the heart that sorrows have frowned on in vain,
Whose spirit outlives them, unfading and warm. Erin, O Erin, thus bright through the tears Of a long night of bondage thy spirit appears. The nations have fallen, and thou still art young;
Thy sun is but rising, when others' is set; And though slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung,
The full noon of freedom shall beam round thee yet. Erin, O Erin, though long in the shade. Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade! Unchilled by the rain, and unwaked by the wind.
The lily lies sleeping through winter's cold hour, Till Spring's light touch her fetters unbind,
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower. Thus Erin, O Erin, thy winter is past. And the hope that lived through It shall blossom at last! |
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EVER OF THEE.
Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming;
Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer; Thou wert the star that, mildly beaming,
Shone o'er my path when all was dark and drear. Still in my heart thy form I cherish;
Ev'ry kind thought like a bird flies to thee. Ah, never, till life and memory perish,
Can I forget how dear thou art to me— Morn, noon, and night, where'er I may be.
Fondly I'm dreaming ever of thee. Ever of thee, when sad and lonely,
Wandering afar, my soul's Joy, to dwell— Ah, then I felt I loved thee only,
All seemed to fade before affection's spell. Tears have not chill'd the love I cherish,
True as the Btars hath my heart been to thee. Ah, never till life and memory perish.
Can I forget how dear thou art to me. Morn, noon, and night, where'er I may be.
Fondly I'm dreaming ever of thee. |
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