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234 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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MICHAEL DOHENY (1805-1863)
A CUSHLA GAL MO CHREE1
T
HE long, long wished-for hour has come, Yet come, astor, in vain ; And left thee but the wailing hum Of sorrow and of pain ; My light of life, my only love !
Thy portion, sure, must be Man's scorn below, God's wrath above •— A cuisle geal mo chroidhe !
I've given for thee my early prime,
And manhood's teeming years; I've blessed thee in my merriest time,
And shed with thee my tears; And, mother, though thou cast away
The child who'd die for thee, My fondest wishes still should pray
For cuisle geal mo chroidhe !
For thee I've tracked the mountain's sides,
And slept within the brake, More lonely than the swan that glides
On Lua's fairy lake. |
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A cushla gal mo chree, bright vein of my heart. |
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