WHEN I came back to Ireland the leaves on the tree, The birds on the branches would keep reminding me, With, @3don't you remember?@1 and @3could you forget?@1 Till I'm living and walking in the old times yet. The wind from the mountains it blows fresh and strong; @3Ah, don't you remember?@1 is still the wind's song. With @3don't you remember?@1 and @3could you forget?@1 As I went out walking 'twas the dead that I met. There's a road runs to Wicklow: it goes past the door. The dust of it's holy for feet it once bore. They've all travelled Westward where the sun doesn't set, @3Ah, don't you remember?@1 and @3could you forget?@1 The blackbird he's mocking from the apple-bough: @3Sure, why would you trouble to be coming now When them that sore missed you are past fear and fret? Ah, don't you remember?@1 and @3could you forget?@1 There's not a flower in Ireland, there isn't a hill, Nor yet a breath of the Four Winds but keeps reminding still, Till my poor heart is troubled and my eyes are wet For @3don't you remember?@1 and @3could you forget?@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHERMAN by RICHARD WATSON GILDER THE MARRIAGE VOW by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON LOVE NOT by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON ON BURNING A DULL POEM; WRITTEN IN 1729 by JONATHAN SWIFT SPANISH WINGS: A LEAF FROM A LOG BOOK by H. BABCOCK THE IRISH MOTHER IN THE PENAL DAYS by JOHN BANIM |