ERIN MAVOURNEEN.
Sweet land of my soul! though the shadows around thee
Have hid in their darkness the light of thy brow,
Though thy harp-strings lie crushed by the chains that have bound thee,
And the crown of thy glory is lost to us now,
Yet fonder the love in our sad hearts upspringing,
A vail of new life round thy torn breast flinging,
Like the ivy's green leaf to the dark ruin clinging,—
Erin Mavourneen arises for thee.
Have hid in their darkness the light of thy brow,
Though thy harp-strings lie crushed by the chains that have bound thee,
And the crown of thy glory is lost to us now,
Yet fonder the love in our sad hearts upspringing,
A vail of new life round thy torn breast flinging,
Like the ivy's green leaf to the dark ruin clinging,—
Erin Mavourneen arises for thee.
No longer we rest where the summer light dallies
In a flush of wild beauty, with lake, rock, and tree,
In a flush of wild beauty, with lake, rock, and tree,
