Air--Grë¡dh mo chroidhe.
I.
Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be,
All comfort else has flown;
For every hope was false to me,
And here I am, alone.
What thoughts were mine in early youth!
Like some old Irish song,
Brimful of love, and life, and truth,
My spirit gushed along.
II.
I hoped to right my native isle,
I hoped a soldier's fame,
I hoped to rest in woman's smile
And win a minstrel's name--
Oh! little have I served my land,
No laurels press my brow,
I have no woman's heart or hand,
Nor minstrel honours now.
III.
But fancy has a magic power,
It brings me wreath and crown,
And woman's love, the self-same hour
It smites oppression down.
Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be,
I have no joy beside;
Oh! throng around, and be to me
Power, country, fame, and bride.
The Lost Path
Thomas Osborne Davis
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Poem topics: alone, heart, hope, joy, life, magic, smile, soldier, song, truth, crown, country, spirit, bride, early, native, youth, power, sweet, bright, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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