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beauty bird blue boys brave breast breath bright charming cold comes cuckoo dark dead dear death deep dreams earth eyes face fair fall fear feet fire flowers follow friends girl give glory gold golden gone grave gray green grow hand head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour Ireland Irish keep King kiss land leaves light lips live lonely look maid meet morning mother ne'er never night o'er once pass play poor rest rose round seen shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit stars summer sure sweet tears tell thee There's things thou thought tree true turn voice wave wild wind young
173. oldal - T*: 16,17THOU art, O God ! the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from thee. Where'er we turn thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
92. oldal - THE BELLS OF SHANDON With deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, In the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On this I ponder Where'er I wander And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee, — With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
511. oldal - And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again ; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain ! But when I speak— thou dost not say, What thou ne'er left'st unsaid ; And now I feel, as well I may, Sweet Mary ! thou art dead ! III.
174. oldal - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem ; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
162. oldal - Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away.
514. oldal - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
153. oldal - BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will. And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still.
309. oldal - Cheeks of rose, untouch'd by art? I will own the colour true, When yielding blushes aid their hue. Is her hand so soft and pure? I must press it, to be sure ; Nor can I be certain then.
165. oldal - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing : But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps. For her heart in his grave is lying.
514. oldal - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.