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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 169 |
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To dree or die 'neath tropic sun or glittering northern
star. But thou bright Erne, thy course doth run to meet
the waves below, And chanteth still the song they heard a thousand
years ago. |
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TROUT FISHING
A
CROSS the fields and through the dew Still sparkling on the blossoming clover, We lightly trudge, with all the blue Broad arch of morning beaming over; The woods before are dark and cool,
With here and there a golden glimmer, And over many a wayside pool
A gleam, a flash, a shade, a shimmer.
By.winding paths and mossy lanes,
All brightly fringed with flower and berry, We pass, nor pause to note the strains,
Of woodland warblers blithe and merry. Our thoughts are bent on " cast" and " play."
We hardly heed the splendor o'er us, But haste with quickening steps away
To reach the glorious sport before us.
With lisping, low-voiced monotone,
The brook flows by in curves and sallies,
And bears its rippling music down To daisied slopes and verdant valleys; |
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