His kiss is sweet, his word is kind, His love is rich to me; I could not in a palace find A truer love than he. The eagle shelters not his nest From hurricane and hail, More bravely than he guards my breast, The boatman of Kinsale. The wind that round the Fastnet sweeps Is not a whit more pure, The goat that down Knock Sheehy leaps Has not a foot more sure. No firmer hand, no freer eye E'er faced an autumn gale. De Courcy's heart is not so high, The Boatman of Kinsale. The brawling squires may heed him not, The dainty stranger sneer, But who will dare to hurt our cot When Myles O'Hea is here? The scarlet soldiers pass along, They'd like but fear to rail-- His blood is hot, his blow is strong, The Boatman of Kinsale. His hooker's in the Scilly van When seines are in the foam; But money never made the man, Nor wealth a happy home. So blest with love and liberty, While he can trim a sail, He'll trust in God, and cling to me, The boatman of Kinsale. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOY'S SUMMER SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER EVENING HYMN by REGINALD HEBER DEATH OF THE DAY by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR UPON WEDLOCK, AND DEATH OF CHILDREN by EDWARD TAYLOR THE SANDPIPER by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER THE HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG [JULY 3, 1863] by WILL HENRY THOMPSON |