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288 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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But if I could get sight of the crown on his brow, By day and night traveling to London I'd go; Over mountains of mist and soft mosses below, Till it beat on the kettle drums Drimmin dhu O.
Welcome home, welcome home, Drimmin dhu O ! Good was your sweet milk for drinking, I trow; With your face like a rose, and your dewlap of snow, I'll part from you never, Drimmin dhu O ! |
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LAMENT OVER THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY OF TIMOLEAGUE
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ONE and weary as I wandered By the bleak shore of the sea, Meditating and reflecting On the world's hard destiny;
Forth the moon and stars 'gan glimmer
In the quiet tide beneath, — For on slumbering spray and blossom
Breathed not out of heaven a breath.
On I went in sad dejection,
Careless where my footsteps bore'
Till a ruined church before me Opened wide its ancient door, —
Till I stood before the portals, Where of old were wont to be,
For the blind, the halt, and leper, Alms and hospitality. |
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