THOUGH time effaces memory, And griefs the bosom harden, I'll ne'er forget, where'er I be, That day at Killenarden; For there, while fancy revelled wide, The summer's day flew o'er me; The friends I loved were at my side, And Irish fields before me. The road was steep; the pelting showers Had cooled the sod beneath us; And there were lots of mountain flowers, A garland to enwreathe us. Far, far below the landscape shone With wheat and new-mown meadows, And as o'erhead the clouds flew on, Beneath swept on their shadows. O friends, beyond the Atlantic's foam There may be nobler mountains, And in our new far Western home Green fields and brighter fountains; But as for me, let time destroy All dreams, but this one pardon, And barren memory long enjoy That day on Killenarden. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHADOW ON THE STONE by THOMAS HARDY HYMN TO THE FLOWERS by HORACE SMITH SUNSET IN THE DEVIL'S GLEN: COUNTY WICKLOW by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG THE HOME-COMING by KATHARINE LEE BATES ROAD AND HILLS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET JEWELLED OFFERING by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT MAD WIND by CATHERINE BRADSHAW |