Thomas Moore

O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
OF Bard and Chief,
Old read more

O, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
OF Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock.

Now in his Palace of the West,
Sinking to slumber, the bright Day,
Like a tired monarch read more

Now in his Palace of the West,
Sinking to slumber, the bright Day,
Like a tired monarch fann'd to rest,
'Mid the cool airs of Evening lay;
While round his couch's golden rim
The gaudy clouds, like courtiers, crept--
Struggling each other's light to dim,
And catch his last smile e'er he slept.

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells!

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells!

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity.

Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity.