There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing.
To wander along by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.
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My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow;
And when the leaves in Summer-time read more
When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow;
And when the leaves in Summer-time their colour dare not show;
Then will I change the colour too, I wear in my caubeen;
But till that day, plaze God, I'll stick to wearin' o' the Green.
If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the Irish
how to listen, society would be read more
If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the Irish
how to listen, society would be quite civilized.
To be really cosmopolitan a man must be at home even in his own
country.
- read more
To be really cosmopolitan a man must be at home even in his own
country.
- Thomas W. Higginson,
Th' an'am an Dhia, but there it is--
The dawn on the hills of Ireland.
God's angels read more
Th' an'am an Dhia, but there it is--
The dawn on the hills of Ireland.
God's angels lifting the night's black veil
From the fair sweet face of my sireland!
O Ireland, isn't it grand, you look
Like a bride in her rich adornin',
And with all the pent up love of my heart
I bid you the top of the morning.
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
read more
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled and shone
In the ring of this world, the most precious stone.
What exile from his country is able to escape from himself?
[Lat., Patriae quis exul se quoque fugit.]
What exile from his country is able to escape from himself?
[Lat., Patriae quis exul se quoque fugit.]
They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
read more
They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.
