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' 168 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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And climbed the hills which sentinel the lordly Delaware ;
By many a sylvan stream I've strayed, and many a mossy shore
Where varying splendors glorified the emerald landscape o'er.
To each and all in north and south, and east and bounteous west,
I freely grant a generous meed and hold their charms confessed;
But still to thee my heart returns, and all its currents flow,
Dear Erne, still murmuring as thou didst a thousand years ago. |
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Alas ! that from the peaceful vale where calm contentment smiled, And simple pleasures, sweetly pure, the passing hours
beguiled.— Alas! that thence thy children's steps, in youth or
age should turn, No more to press thy blooming banks and flowery
paths O Erne ! But chance and fate, hath thus decreed, and were I
now to stand Upon thy shores, this face might be, a strange one in
the land. The kindly friends, the comrades dear, whom last I
saw through tears, Are changed, I ween as much as I, by five and twenty
years! And some in calm Tetuny sleep, and some have
strayed afar, |
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