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 There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
 The dew on his thin robe was heavy and read more 
 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. 
 Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of 
England . . . Ireland is not a geographical read more 
 Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of 
England . . . Ireland is not a geographical fragment, but a 
nation. 
 For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
 Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
read more 
 For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
 Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
  Whose sons unaccustom'd to rebel commotion,
   Tho' joyous, are sober--tho' peaceful, are brave. 
 The groves of Blarney
 They look so charming
  Down by the purling
   Of sweet, read more 
 The groves of Blarney
 They look so charming
  Down by the purling
   Of sweet, silent brooks. 
 The dust of some is Irish earth,
 Among their own they rest.  
 The dust of some is Irish earth,
 Among their own they rest. 
 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. 
An Irishman's heart is nothing but his imagination.
An Irishman's heart is nothing but his imagination.
 Arm of Erin, prove strong, but be gentle as brave,
 And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save;
read more 
 Arm of Erin, prove strong, but be gentle as brave,
 And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save;
  Not one feeling of vengeance presume to defile
   The cause or the men of the Emerald Isle. 
 Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises!
 An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
  read more 
 Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises!
 An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
  Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes,
   Thou queen of the west, the world's cushla ma chree.