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arms battle beaming beauty beneath bird bloom blue bonnie boys brave breath breeze bride bright charm cheer cold coming dark dear deep dream drink dwell earth England eyes face fade fair fairy faith fall flowers friends gentle give gone green hame hand happy hath hear heart hope hour J. E. CARPENTER kind land lassie laugh leaves light live look love thee LOVER maid Mary meet merry Molly morning mother Music native ne'er never night o'er once pass poor Queen roam rose round seen shine ship shore side sigh sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sounds speak star storm summer sunny sure sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou thought true Twas voice waters wave wild wind young youth
Seite 48 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home...
Seite 211 - Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow.
Seite 211 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow...
Seite 222 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Seite 87 - THE BELLS OF SHANDON With deep affection and recollection I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle their magic spells. On this I ponder where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee; With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
Seite 123 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Seite 49 - Her throat is like the swan ; Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on, — That e'er the sun shone on ; And dark blue is her e'e ; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee. Like dew on the gowan lying Is the fa...
Seite 162 - Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?