 | Shamrocks |  |
162
SHAMROCK SONG.
Oh, the red rose may be fair,
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
Many a lover hath the rose
When June's musk-wind breathes and blows;
And in many a bower is heard
Her sweet praise from bee and bird.
When June's musk-wind breathes and blows;
And in many a bower is heard
Her sweet praise from bee and bird.
Through the gold hours dreameth she,
In her warm heart passionately,
Her fair face hung languid-wise:
Oh, her breath of honey and spice!
In her warm heart passionately,
Her fair face hung languid-wise:
Oh, her breath of honey and spice!
163
Like a fair saint virginal
Stands your lily, silver and tall;
Over all the flowers that be
Is my shamrock dear to me.
Stands your lily, silver and tall;
Over all the flowers that be
Is my shamrock dear to me.
Shines the lily like the sun,
Crystal-pure, a cold sweet nun;
With her austere lips she sings
To her heart of heavenly things.
Crystal-pure, a cold sweet nun;
With her austere lips she sings
To her heart of heavenly things.
Gazeth through a night of June
To her sister saint, the moon;
With the stars communeth long
Of the angels and their song.
To her sister saint, the moon;
With the stars communeth long
Of the angels and their song.
But when Summer died last year
Rose and lily died with her;
Shamrock stayeth every day,
Be the winds or gold or grey.
Rose and lily died with her;
Shamrock stayeth every day,
Be the winds or gold or grey.
Irish hills, as grey as the dove,
Know the little plant I love;
Warm and fair it mantles them,
Stretching down from throat to hem.
Know the little plant I love;
Warm and fair it mantles them,
Stretching down from throat to hem.
164
And it laughs o'er many a vale,
Sheltered safe from storm and gale;
Sky and sun and stars thereof
Love the gentle plant I love.
Sheltered safe from storm and gale;
Sky and sun and stars thereof
Love the gentle plant I love.
Soft it clothes the ruined floor
Of many an abbey, grey and hoar;
And the still home of the dead
With its green is carpeted.
Of many an abbey, grey and hoar;
And the still home of the dead
With its green is carpeted.
Roses for an hour of love,
With the joy and pain thereof;
Stand my lilies white to see
All for prayer and purity.
With the joy and pain thereof;
Stand my lilies white to see
All for prayer and purity.
These are white as the harvest moon
Roses flush like the heart of June;
But my shamrock, brave and gay,
Glads the tired eyes every day.
Roses flush like the heart of June;
But my shamrock, brave and gay,
Glads the tired eyes every day.
Oh, the red rose shineth rare,
And the lily saintly fair;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the inmost heart of me!
And the lily saintly fair;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the inmost heart of me!
| Shamrocks | |