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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 387 |
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SPRING-TIME
T
HE winter fleeteth like a dream, The rain is past and o'er; The sea is lit with sunny gleam, The hills are white no more. Full-flowered the lilac hedges stand,
The throstle sings all day, But there's no spring in all the land When Eileen is away.
Green are the copses on the hill;
The cuckoo, hid from sight, Haunts all the ringing valleys still
With echoes of delight; His name is like a memory
Repeated day by day, But memories all are sad to me
When Eileen is away.
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The yellow cowslips here and there
Shake in the balmy breeze; There is no perfume in the air,
Far-brought from southern seas; There is a brooding melody
In forest, hill, and bay, But in my soul no harmony
When Eileen is away.
The birds remember in their song Their dwellings o'er the foam ;
The cuckoo will not tarry long, The swift returneth home: |
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