Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life Connecticut River reeds blown by the "Peasant Bard" |
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MARY, MAVOURNIN, ACUSHLA MA CREE.
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 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
MARY, MAVOURNIN, ACUSHLA MA CREE.
The world it is wide, and the world it is cold,
And dear to the worldling are silver and gold,
But dearer by far is my Mary to me,
My Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
And dear to the worldling are silver and gold,
But dearer by far is my Mary to me,
My Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
The city may boast of its mansions so fair,
I care not, tho' beauty in splendor is there;
In a lone, quiet nook a brown cottage I see,—
There's Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
I care not, tho' beauty in splendor is there;
In a lone, quiet nook a brown cottage I see,—
There's Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
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Bright gems, such as sparkle in royalty's crown,
May deck with their lustre the belles of the town.
But the light of thine eye is a jewel to me,
My Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
May deck with their lustre the belles of the town.
But the light of thine eye is a jewel to me,
My Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
Abroad have I roved like a bird from its nest,
And viewed Nature's charms from the east to the west,
But her charms—dearest charms—sweetly centre for me
In Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
And viewed Nature's charms from the east to the west,
But her charms—dearest charms—sweetly centre for me
In Mary, mavournin, acushla ma cree!
| Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life | |