Thou mourner for departed dreams! On earth there is no rest When grief hath troubled the pure streams Of memory in thy breast! - Helen Blackwood, Baroness Dufferin and Claneboye

I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary—kind and true!
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to.
They say there's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always there;
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair.

I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
That bright May morning long ago
When first you were my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and green,
The lark sang loud and high,
The red was on your lip, Mary,
The love-light in your eye.

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.