Oh! the broom banks of the river are fair. Now the wild briar is blossoming there - Now when the green banks so calmly repose, Oh! the broom banks of the river are fair. Lulled by the river's strange chant as it goes, Now the wild briar is blossoming there - Laughing beneath the gold eyes of the broom, Now when the green banks so calmly repose, Flashing so free where the heather's in bloom, Lulled by the river's strange chant as it goes, Blushing all o'er at the kiss of the sun, Laughing beneath the gold eyes of the broom, Tranquil again as the gaze of a nun. Flashing so free where the heather's in bloom, Is it, my river, a sob or a song Blushing all o'er at the kiss of the sun, Beats from that heart as you hurry along? Tranquil again as the gaze of a nun. Once in the twilight I thought it farewell, Is it, my river, a sob or a song Just a goodbye to both mountain and dell. Beats from that heart as you hurry along? Here the first daisies break free from the sod, Once in the twilight I thought it farewell, Stars looking up with their first glance to God! Just a goodbye to both mountain and dell. Here, ere the first days of April are done, Stand the swart cherry trees robed with the sun; In the deep woodland the windflowers blow; Here the first daisies break free from the sod, Where young grass is springing, the crocuses glow; Stars looking up with their first glance to God! Down the green glen is the primrose's light, Here, ere the first days of April are done, Soft shines the hawthorn's raiment of white, Stand the swart cherry trees robed with the sun; Round the rough knees of the crabtree a ring In the deep woodland the windflowers blow; Of daffodils dance for joy of the spring, Where young grass is springing, the crocuses glow; And then my bright river, so full and so free, Down the green glen is the primrose's light, Sings as it wanders through woodland and lea. Soft shines the hawthorn's raiment of white, Fed with a thousand invisible rills, Round the rough knees of the crabtree a ring Girdled around with the awe of the hills, Of daffodils dance for joy of the spring, High in the mountains you spring to the light, And then my bright river, so full and so free, Pure as the dawn from the dark ring of night. Sings as it wanders through woodland and lea. Well may the fairies keep revelry round, There where you cleave the thin air at a bound, And rush on the crag with your white arms outspread - Fed with a thousand invisible rills, Only a fairy could step where you tread Girdled around with the awe of the hills, 'Mid the deep echoes you pause to arouse, High in the mountains you spring to the light, 'Mid the grim rocks with the frown on their brows, Pure as the dawn from the dark ring of night. Type of young Freedom, bold river, to me; Well may the fairies keep revelry round, Leaping the crags, sweeping down, to Lough Neagh. There where you cleave the thin air at a bound, Many a ruin, both abbey and cot, And rush on the crag with your white arms outspread - Sees in your mirror its desolate lot. Only a fairy could step where you tread Many an ear lying shut far away 'Mid the deep echoes you pause to arouse, Hearkened the tune that your dark ripples play. 'Mid the grim rocks with the frown on their brows, One - I remember her better than all - Type of young Freedom, bold river, to me; She knew every legend of cabin and hall; Leaping the crags, sweeping down, to Lough Neagh. Wept when the Law and the Famine-time met, Sang how the Red Hand was radiantly set Over the victors who fought at the Ford,* Many a ruin, both abbey and cot, Over the sweep of O'Neill's Spanish sword - Sees in your mirror its desolate lot. O our own river! where is she to-night? Many an ear lying shut far away Where are the exiles whose homes are in sight? Hearkened the tune that your dark ripples play. Once in the Maytime your carol so sweet One - I remember her better than all - Found out my heart in the midst of the street. She knew every legend of cabin and hall; Ah! how I listened, and you murmured low Wept when the Law and the Famine-time met, Hope, wide as earth and as white as the snow; Sang how the Red Hand was radiantly set Hope that, alas! like the foam on your breast, Over the victors who fought at the Ford,* Broke and was drifted away from its rest. Over the sweep of O'Neill's Spanish sword - Peace did not pass from your bonny broom shore, O our own river! where is she to-night? Where are the exiles whose homes are in sight? Lost though the hope unto me evermore, Lost, like your song - for I think it a sigh Stirs that deep heart when I listen anigh. Once in the Maytime your carol so sweet Only at dusk does it sound like farewell, Found out my heart in the midst of the street. Just a goodbye to myself and the dell. Ah! how I listened, and you murmured low Hope, wide as earth and as white as the snow; Hope that, alas! like the foam on your breast, Broke and was drifted away from its rest. Peace did not pass from your bonny broom shore, Lost though the hope unto me evermore, Lost, like your song - for I think it a sigh Stirs that deep heart when I listen anigh. Only at dusk does it sound like farewell, Just a goodbye to myself and the dell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOUGLASS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SONGS WITH PRELUDES: REGRET by JEAN INGELOW THE CROPPY BOY: (A BALLAD OF '98) by WILLIAM B. MCBURNEY SAMSON AGONISTES by JOHN MILTON SONNET: 20. A FAREWELL by PHILIP SIDNEY COMMUNION by DOROTHY P. ALBAUGH THE OUTLAW'S SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE |