STAR of my sight, you gentle Breedyeen, Often at night I am sick and grieving; I am ill, I know it, and no deceiving, And grief on the wind blows no relieving. 0 wind, if passing by that grey boreen, Blow my blessing unto my storeen; Were I on the spot I should hear her calling, But I am not, and my tears are falling. Into the post I put a letter Telling my love that I was no better; Small the loss, was her answer to me, A lover's mind should be always gloomy. Wind, greet the mountain where she I prize is When the gold moon sets and the white sun rises; A grey fog hangs over cursed Dublin, It fills my lungs and my heart it's troubling. Ochone Ifor the death, when the breath is going! I thought to bribe it with bumpers flowing; I'd give what men see from yonder steeple To be in Loughrea and amongst my people. Och, the long high-roads I shall never travel! Worn my brogues are, with stones and gravel; Though I went to mass, there was no devotion, But to see her pass with her swan-like motion. Farewell Loughrea, and a long farewell to you; Many's the pleasant day I spent in you, Drinking with friends, and my love beside me, I little dreamt then of what should betide me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONNET, TO THE NOBLE LADY, THE LADY MARY WROTH by BEN JONSON THE MARTYR; INDICATIVE OF PASSION OF PEOPLES APRIL 15, 1865 by HERMAN MELVILLE UPON A SPIDER CATCHING A FLY by EDWARD TAYLOR SONNET: BARBERRIES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 4. THE OLD VALLEY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) KNOWLEDGE AFTER DEATH by HENRY CHARLES BEECHING |