Ballads of Irish chivalry By Robert Dwyer Joyce: Edited, with Annotations, by his brother P. W. Joyce |
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SUNNY GLENEIGH. |
 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
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SUNNY GLENEIGH.
I
I still am a rover our green island over,A passion-fraught lover of beauty and bloom;
On wild mountains pondering, through sweet valleys wandering,
Where soft winds are squandering the blossoms' perfume.
From all these dear places, with their bland summer graces,—
From all their fair faces my heart still doth stray,
To where clear waves are flinging and flowerets are springing,
And blithe birds are singing in sunny Gleneigh.
II
There green woods wave slowly to winds breathing lowly,And ruin walls holy stand grey o'er the scene;
There clear fountains rally their strength in each valley,
Where waves the wild sally and birch leaves are green.
There rocks famed in story stand silent and hoary,
And fields in the glory of summer are gay,
And mead blossoms muster their bells of bright lustre,
And rich berries cluster in sunny Gleneigh.
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |