Works

"Just forty years to-day, my dear,
We sail'd from Irish waters,
And bade farewell, with many a tear,
To Erin's sons and daughters.

"You'll recollect how ach'd our hearts,
That day in Tipperary,...

'Tis morning, and the meadows yet,
Are wet with gracious drops of dew.
Each blade of grass, and flow'r, is set
With sparkling gems of richest hue.
The sun, with rising glory, sheds...

Thou green isle of sorrows, I think of thee daily,
And sad are the thoughts that come into my brain,
When here, to my home, o'er the wide, rolling ocean,
Is wafted the news of thy trouble and pain.
...

Is there room for the poet, fair Canada's sons.
To live his strange life, and to warble his songs,
To follow each current of thought as it runs,
And to sing of your victories, glories and wrongs?
...

When men of gentle lives depart,
They leave behind no brilliant story
Of fam'd exploits, to make men start
In wonder at their dazzling glory.

The scholar's light, religion's beams,...

When wooded hill, and grassy plain,
With nature's beauties, gaily dress'd,
Lay calm beneath the red man's reign,
And smiling, in unconscious rest,

Then roam'd the forest's dusky son,...