 | Songs and Poems by George Sigerson |  |
27
MO CHAILIN DONN
(May, 1859).
I.
The blush is on the flower, and the bloom is on the tree,
And the bonnie, bonnie sweet birds are carolling their glee;
And the dews upon the grass are made diamonds by the sun,
All to deck a path of glory for my own Cailin donn!
And the bonnie, bonnie sweet birds are carolling their glee;
And the dews upon the grass are made diamonds by the sun,
All to deck a path of glory for my own Cailin donn!
O, fair she is! O, rare she is! O, dearest still to me!
More welcome than the green leaf to winter-stricken tree,
More welcome than the blossom to the weary, dusty bee,
Is the coming of my true love—my own Cailin donn!
More welcome than the green leaf to winter-stricken tree,
More welcome than the blossom to the weary, dusty bee,
Is the coming of my true love—my own Cailin donn!
II.
O, Sycamore! O, Sycamore! wave, wave your banners green—
Let all your pennons flutter, O, Beech! before my queen!
Ye fleet and honied breezes, to kiss her hand ye run,
But my heart has past before ye—to my own Cailin donn!
Let all your pennons flutter, O, Beech! before my queen!
Ye fleet and honied breezes, to kiss her hand ye run,
But my heart has past before ye—to my own Cailin donn!
28
III.
Ring out, ring out, O, Linden! your merry, leafy bells!
Unveil your brilliant torches, O, Chestnut! to the dells;
Strew, strew the glade with splendour, for morn—it cometh on!
O, the morn of all delight to me—my own Cailin donn!
Unveil your brilliant torches, O, Chestnut! to the dells;
Strew, strew the glade with splendour, for morn—it cometh on!
O, the morn of all delight to me—my own Cailin donn!
IV.
She is coming where we parted, where she wanders every day;
There's a gay surprise before her who thinks me far away!
O, like hearing bugles triumph when the fight of Freedom's won,
Is the joy around your footsteps—my own Cailin donn!
There's a gay surprise before her who thinks me far away!
O, like hearing bugles triumph when the fight of Freedom's won,
Is the joy around your footsteps—my own Cailin donn!
O, fair she is! O, rare she is! O, dearest still to me!
More welcome that the green leaf to winter-stricken tree,
More welcome than the blossom to the weary, dusty bee,
Is your coming, O, my true love—my own Cailin donn!
More welcome that the green leaf to winter-stricken tree,
More welcome than the blossom to the weary, dusty bee,
Is your coming, O, my true love—my own Cailin donn!
| Songs and Poems by George Sigerson | |