Ah, rest to the morrow, for many the sorrow That waking will brew; Gone is thy brother, Long must I rue; Hark not thy mother Rocking thee to, Rocking thee fro, Lennavan mo, Ireland's own woe Never must keep children from sleep, Lennavan mo. The clouds are fast creeping, and Mary is weeping Her tears down the sky; Gray is the evening When Irishmen die; Hark not the keening, Rest thee and lie, Lennavan mo, Lennavan mo, Far be the foe, Ours is the strife, yours is dear life, Lennavan mo. Earl Garrat is hiding, Lord Edward is riding, And fast is his rein; The horses are stamping Over the plain; Hark not the tramping, Turn thee again, Lennavan mo, Lennavan mo, Nestle down low, Others may ride, you must abide, Lennavan mo. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEGRO SPEAKS OF RIVERS by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES DORIS; A PASTORAL by ARTHUR JOSEPH MUNBY THE GODODDIN: CONAN by ANEIRIN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 13 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH TREK FEVER by JULIA FIELD BROWN |