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4i2 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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MICHAEL HOGAN (1832- )
DRAHERIN O MACHREE1
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GRIEVE when I think on the dear, happy days of youth, When all the bright dreams of this faithless world seemed truth; When I strayed thro' the woodland, as gay as a midsummer bee, In brotherly love with my Draherin O Machree.
Together we lay in the sweet-scented meadows to rest,
Together we watched the gay lark as he sung o'er his nest,
Together we plucked the red fruit of the fragrant haw-tree,
And I loved, as a sweetheart, my Draherin O Machree !
His form it was straight as the hazel that grows in the
glen, His manners were courteous, and social, and gay
amongst men; His bosom was white as the lily on summer's green
lea — And God's brightest image was Draherin O Machree!
' Draherin O Machree, little brother of my heart. |
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