On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I, No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.
Thomas Campbell (1777 - 1844)
Source: The Harper, 1799
Contributed by: Zaady
Oh! once the harp of Innisfail Was strung full high to notes of gladness; But yet it often told a tale Of more prevailing sadness.
Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave, oh! leave the light of Hope behind! What though my winged hours of bliss have been Like angel visits, few and far between?
Source: Pleasures of Hope, 1799
Ye Mariners of England, That guard our native sons; Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!
Source: Ye Mariners of England, 1800
There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath, For a time.
Source: Battle of the Baltic
A stoic of the woods - a man without a tear.
Source: Gertrude of Wyoming
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.
Source: Lochiel’s Warning
While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!
"Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Copyright © 2015 Gaiam, Inc.