Dirge of an Exile Maid: A Ballad of '67.
Oh, ye must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die:
And where our father's ashes be
Our own may never lie!
- Lord Byron
Yet a tear my eye will moisten,
When by Anner side I stray
For the lily of the mountain foot
That withered far away!
-C.J. Kickham.
Where rolls the Mississippi wave
By praisirs o've the western stup,
They dug a Gaelic maiden's grave-
And there she sleeps her long, last sleep!
Her eyes were Heaven's eternal blue;
Her neck and brow like Alpine snow;
And dimpled cheeks a pink-pale hue
(leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)
