 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
190
THE SPRING OF THE YEAR.
I
We sat by the verge of the forest,Where flowers shone like stars in the ray,
Where steep rocks towered highest and hoarest,
'Mid those hills of the east far away;
191
Undimmed by all doubting and fear,
And young like the fresh flowers around us,
In the soft blooming spring of the year.
II
The breeze brushed the stream into splendour,And murmured down valley and lea;
The wild birds sang songs low and tender
To none but my darling and me;
And sweet were the smiles of my true love,
And bright were the eyes of my dear,
A-sparkling with warm rays of new love
In the soft blooming spring of the year.
III
The bronzed nuts in autumn that cluster,The golden-leaved sprays drooping down,
Are dim near the amber-bright lustre
That gleamed in her long locks of brown;
Her cheeks like the rose of the morning,
Her neck like the blooms of the brere,
That smile, all the woodlands adorning,
In the soft blooming spring of the year.
IV
What vows of affection we plighted,What dreams 'mid those high hills we wove,
Of glory and bliss, ever lighted
And warmed by the gay lamp of love—
Those vows live by doubt still unhaunted,
The gay lamp shines steady and clear,
Still brightening those dreams that enchanted
In the soft blooming spring of the year.
192
V
The future for us may be ladenWith grief, 'stead of bliss and of fame,
But I and my dear Irish maiden
Shall love to the end still the same—
So sure to that love we'll be clinging,
As flowers in our wild woods appear,
Or birds in green Ireland are singing
In the soft blooming spring of the year.
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |