Classic Poem

Air — The Leitrim County.

How light is my heart as I journey along,
Now my perilous service is o'er;
I think on sweet home, and I carol a song,
In remembrance of her I adore:
How sad was the hour when I bade her adieu!
Her tears spoke her grief, though her words were but few,
She hung on my bosom and sigh'd, O be true,
When you're far from the green Inismore!

Ah! Eveleen, my love! hadst thou seen this fond breast,
How, at parting, it bled to its core;
Thou hadst there seen thine image so deeply imprest,
That thou ne'er couldst have doubted me more.
For my king and my conntry undaunted I fought,
And brav'd all the hardships of war as I ought,
But the day never rose saw thee strange to my thought,
Since I left thee in green Inismore.

Ye dear native mountains that tow'r on my view,
What joys to my mind ye restore!
The past happy scenes of my life ye renew,
And ye ne'er seem'd so charming before.
In the rapture of fancy already I spy
My kindred and friends crouding round me with joy,
But my Eveleen, sweet girl, there's a far dearer tie,
Binds this heart to the green Inismore.