Oh, Bay of Dublin, how my heart you're troublin', Your beauty haunts me like a fever dream; Like frozen fountains that the sun sets bubblin', My heart's blood warms when I but hear your name. And never till this life's pulsation ceases, My earliest, latest thought you'll fail to be. Oh, none here knows how very fair that place is, And no one cares how dear it is to me. Sweet Wicklow mountains, the soft sunlight sleepin' On your green uplands is a picture rare; You crowd around me, like young maidens peepin' And puzzlin' me to say which is most fair, As tho' you longed to see your own sweet faces Reflected in that smooth and silver sea. My fondest blessin' on those lovely places, Tho' no one cares how dear they are to me. How often, when alone at work I'm sittin', And musing sadly on the days of yore, I think I see my pretty Katie knittin', The childer playin' round the cabin door; I think I see the neighbours' kindly faces All gathered round, their long-lost friend to see; Though none here knows how very fair that place is, Heav'n knows how dear my poor home was to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MADAME DE SEVIGNE by MATHIEU DE MONTREUIL ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 8. ON LEAVING HOLLAND by MARK AKENSIDE OPEN THY HEART by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS FEAR AND LOVE by EGMONT HEGEL ARENS A SONG OF THE WESTERN EDEN by HOPE S. BARBER AFFINITIES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |