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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 289 |
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Still the ancient seat was standing Built against the buttress gray
Where the clergy used to welcome Weary travelers on their way.
There I sat me down in sadness, 'Neath my cheek I placed my hand,
Till the tears fell hot and briny Down upon the grassy land.
There, I said in woful sorrow, Weeping bitterly the while,
Was a time when joy and gladness Reigned within this ruined pile : —
Was a time when bells were tinkling, Clergy preaching peace abroad,
Psalms a-singing, music ringing Praises to the mighty God.
Empty aisle, deserted chancel, Tower tottering to your fall,
Mitny a storm since then has beaten On the gray head of your wall I
Many a bitter storm and tempest Has your roof-tree turned away,
Since you first were formed a temple To the Lord of night and day.
Holy house of ivied gables,
That wert once the country's pride, Houseless now in weary wandering
Roam your inmates far and wide. |
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