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Ballads of Irish chivalry

By Robert Dwyer Joyce: Edited, with Annotations, by his brother P. W. Joyce

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MARGARET.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


162

MARGARET.

I

The hills and the dells and the flower-edged streams
Are brighter than they were wont to be;
For winter is gone, and the sunny gleams
Of spring-time clothe them in radiancy:
But my Margaret is gone, and the spring's bright beams
Are darkened and dead to me.

II

Valley and plain look serene and bright,
Crag and castle, green fields and all;
The young lambs play in their fresh delight,
And the sweet birds sing in the forest tall:
But my Margaret is gone, and the shades of night
Dark down in my bosom fall.

III

The winter has fled from mountain and stream,
The woods and the hedges are green all o'er;
But where are those eyes of the azure beam,
And those radiant locks like the golden ore?
Ah, my Margaret is gone, and my youthful dream
Has vanished for evermore.