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Oh, the warm wild woodland ways, Deep in dewy grasses,

Where the wind-blown shadow strays,
Scented as it passes!

Pedlar breathing deeply,
Toiling into town,
With the dusty highway

You are dusky brown;
Hast thou seen by daisied leas,
And by rivers flowing,
Lilac-ringlets which the breeze
Loosens lightly blowing?
Out of yonder wagon
Pleasant hay-scents float,
He who drives it carries
A daisy in his coat :
Oh, the English meadows, fair
Far beyond all praises!
Freckled orchids everywhere
Mid the snow of daisies!

Now in busy silence
Broods the nightingale,
Choosing his love's dwelling
In a dimpled dale;
Round the leafy bower they raise
Rose-trees wild are springing;
Underneath, thro' the green haze,
Bounds the brooklet singing.

And his love is silent

As a bird can be,

For the red buds only

Fill the red rose-tree;
Just as buds and blossoms blow
He'll begin his tune,

When all is green and roses glow
Underneath the moon.

Nowhere in the valleys

Will the wind be still, Everything is waving, Wagging at his will:

Blows the milkmaid's kirtle clean, With her hand press'd on it; Lightly o'er the hedge so green Blows the ploughboy's bonnet.

Oh, to be a-roaming

In an English dell!
Every nook is wealthy,
All the world looks well,

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Then we drank to O'Hara
With drams to the brim,
While the face of O'Hara
Look'd on so grim,

In the corpse-light shining
Yellow and dim.

The cup of liquor went round again,
And the talk grew louder at every drain;
Louder the tongue of the women grew!
The lips of the boys were loosening too!
The widow her weary eyelids clos'd,
And, soothed by the drop o' drink, she
doz'd ;

The mother brighten'd and laugh'd to hear
Of O'Hara's fight with the grenadier,
And the hearts of all took better cheer,

At the Wake of Tim O'Hara.

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The thirsty leaves are troubled into sighs, And up above me, on the glistening boughs, Patters the summer rain!

Into a nook,

Screen'd by thick foliage of oak and beech, I creep for shelter; and the summer shower Murmurs around me. Oh, the drowsy sounds!

The pattering rain, the numerous sigh of leaves,

The deep, warm breathing of the scented air,

Sink sweet into my soul-until at last Comes the soft ceasing of the gentle fall, And lo! the eye of blue within the Pool Opens again, while with a silvern gleam Dew-diamonds twinkle moistly on the leaves,

Or, shaken downward by the summer wind, Fall melting on the Pool in rings of light!

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I could not see a kirkyard near or far;
I thirsted for a green grave, and my vision
Was weary for the white gleam of a tomb-

stone.

But harkening dumbly, ever and anon
I heard a cry out of a human dwelling,
And felt the cold wind of a lost one's going.

One struck a brother fiercely, and he fell,
And faded in a darkness; and that other
Tore his hair, and was afraid, and could
not perish.

One struck his aged mother on the mouth, And she vanish'd with a gray grief from his hearth-stone.

One melted from her bairn, and on the ground

With sweet unconscious eyes the bairn lay smiling.

And many made a weeping among mountains,

And hid themselves in caverns, and were drunken.

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