The Golden Treasury of Irish Songs and Lyrics, 1±ÇCharles Welsh Dodge Publishing Company, 1907 |
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8 ÆäÀÌÁö
... gone down all A wee to the blacksmith's wake ; There pass'd ane on by the window small , And guv the door a shake . The man he up and open'd the door When he had spoken a bit , A pedlar man stepp'd into the floor , Down he tumbled the ...
... gone down all A wee to the blacksmith's wake ; There pass'd ane on by the window small , And guv the door a shake . The man he up and open'd the door When he had spoken a bit , A pedlar man stepp'd into the floor , Down he tumbled the ...
28 ÆäÀÌÁö
... gone . They took her lightly back , Between the night and morrow ; They thought that she was fast asleep , But she was dead with sorrow . They have kept her ever since Deep within the lake , On a bed of flag - leaves , Watching till she ...
... gone . They took her lightly back , Between the night and morrow ; They thought that she was fast asleep , But she was dead with sorrow . They have kept her ever since Deep within the lake , On a bed of flag - leaves , Watching till she ...
31 ÆäÀÌÁö
... gone ! THE LOVER AND BIRDS 7ITHIN a budding grove , WT ¡ª In April's ear sang every bird his best , But not a song to pleasure my unrest , Or touch the tears unwept of bitter love ; Some spake , methought , with pity , some as if in jest ...
... gone ! THE LOVER AND BIRDS 7ITHIN a budding grove , WT ¡ª In April's ear sang every bird his best , But not a song to pleasure my unrest , Or touch the tears unwept of bitter love ; Some spake , methought , with pity , some as if in jest ...
47 ÆäÀÌÁö
... gone - is gone , And his mother soon will follow . The dirge for the dead will be sung for me , And the mass be chanted meetly , And I shall sleep with my little boy , In the moonlight churchyard sweetly . JOHN FRANCIS ARMSTRONG ( 1841 ...
... gone - is gone , And his mother soon will follow . The dirge for the dead will be sung for me , And the mass be chanted meetly , And I shall sleep with my little boy , In the moonlight churchyard sweetly . JOHN FRANCIS ARMSTRONG ( 1841 ...
66 ÆäÀÌÁö
... gone to sea . The lads pursue , I strive to shun ; Though all their arts are lost on me ; For I can never love but one , And he , alas ! has gone to sea . They bid me to the wake , the fair , 66 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF.
... gone to sea . The lads pursue , I strive to shun ; Though all their arts are lost on me ; For I can never love but one , And he , alas ! has gone to sea . They bid me to the wake , the fair , 66 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF.
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ÀÚÁÖ ³ª¿À´Â ´Ü¾î ¹× ±¸¹®
Ballinasloe Ballylesson ban mo bawn beauty Bellewstown blessed blow blue bosom boys brave breast breath bright brow cheek Connacht cuckoo dark dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep Douglas Hyde dream dubh earth Eileen aroon Erin eyes fair fairy flowers Fontenoy forever friends Gael girl Glandore glen glory God save Ireland gold golden gone grave gray green grief hand hath hear heart heaven hills hope hurroo Innisfail Ireland Irish Irish poetry isle Kinkora kiss land light lips live lonely look Machree maid maiden morning mother mountain ne'er neath never night o'er Ossian pale Rapparees rose round sail shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul star sweet sword tears tell thee there's thine thou Turloughmore Twas voice wave weary weep wild wind young
Àαâ Àο뱸
151 ÆäÀÌÁö - THOU art, O God ! the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from thee. Where'er we turn thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
13 ÆäÀÌÁö - We may not know, we cannot tell, what pains he had to bear, but we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there.
128 ÆäÀÌÁö - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St Ann's our parting hymn.* Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight*» past Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
360 ÆäÀÌÁö - Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. " Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still ; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
306 ÆäÀÌÁö - For the yeo-heave-o , and the heave-away, and the sighing seaman's cheer, When, weighing slow, at eve they go, far, far from love and home; And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam. In livid and obdurate gloom he darkens down at last; A shapely one he is, and strong, as e'er from cat was cast...
152 ÆäÀÌÁö - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem ; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
140 ÆäÀÌÁö - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me : The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken ! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
140 ÆäÀÌÁö - Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away.
366 ÆäÀÌÁö - When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds, too late, that men betray. What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover. To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
471 ÆäÀÌÁö - My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moon's pale ray: Its hold is frail— its date is brief, Restless— and soon to pass away!