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312 THE GOLDEN TREMURT OF |
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Even there with the last breath these fond words I'd say: " Oh, beautiful Moon, shine peaceful and bright On the green hills of Ireland, away, far away ! " |
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TO DOUGLAS HYDE
F
ROM the banks of Androscoggin, Where the pine is bending o'er, To the farthest headland marking California's fertile shore; From the boundless plains of Texas
No Niagara's foaming tide, With a hundred thousand welcomes Exiles greet you, Douglas Hyde.
Long we've listened to the pleading
Of the men who failed to show Hovv their words alone could purchase
Freedom from a heartless foe; Meekly craving for the justice
Always thwarted, long denied — Thank the Lord that heaven sent us
Men like you, our Douglas Hyde.
You, who knew of Erin's glory,
You, who saw her latent power, You, who searched the mountain craggy,
Wooded glen and leafy bower For the relics of her genius
And the tokens of her pride; You, who wove a native garland,
You, who crowned her, Douglas Hyde! |
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