T

SPRING-TIME

HE winter fleeteth like a dream,
The rain is past and o'er;

The sea is lit with sunny gleam,
The hills are white no more.
Full-flowered the lilac hedges stand,
The throstle sings all day,

But there's no spring in all the land
When Eileen is away.

Green are the copses on the hill;
The cuckoo, hid from sight,
Haunts all the ringing valleys still
With echoes of delight;
His name is like a memory
Repeated day by day,

But memories all are sad to me
When Eileen is away.

The yellow cowslips here and there
Shake in the balmy breeze;
There is no perfume in the air,
Far-brought from southern seas;

There is a brooding melody

In forest, hill, and bay, But in my soul no harmony When Eileen is away.

The birds remember in their song
Their dwellings o'er the foam;
The cuckoo will not tarry long,
The swift returneth home:

The very wind, so full and free, Forgets not ocean's spray, And, Eileen, I forget not thee When thou art far away.

GERALD GRIFFIN

(1803-1840)

EILEEN AROON1

HEN, like the early rose,

W1

Eileen aroon!

Beauty in childhood blows,

Eileen aroon !

When, like a diadem,

Buds blush around the stem,
Which is the fairest gem?

Eileen aroon !

Is it the laughing eye?
Eileen aroon!
Is it the timid sigh?

Eileen aroon!

Is it the tender tone,

Soft as the stringed heart's moan?

Oh! it is Truth alone,

Eileen aroon!

When, like the rising day,

Eileen aroon !

Love sends his early ray,

Eileen aroon!

1 Eibhlín a rúin, Eileen, my treasure.

What makes his dawning glow
Changeless through joy or woe?—
Only the constant know,
Eileen aroon!

We now are joined and ne'er shall sever;

This hearth's our own,

Our hearts are one,

And peace is ours forever!

When I was poor,

Your father's door

Was closed against your constant lover ;
With care and pain

I tried in vain

My fortunes to recover.

I said, "To other lands I'd roam,
Where fate may smile on me, love;
I said, "Farewell, my own old home!
And I said, "Farewell to thee, love!"
Sing, Gile machree, etc.

I might have said,

My mountain maid,

Come live with me, your own true lover

I know a spot,

A silent cot,

Your friends can ne'er discover,

Where gently flows the waveless tide

By one small garden only;

Where the heron waves his wings so wide,
And the linnets sing so lonely!

Sing, Gile machree, etc.