The Maid of Slievenamon

Alone, all alone, by the wave-wash’d strand,
And alone in the crowded ball;
The hall it is gay, and the waves are grand,
But my heart is not here at all:
It flies far away, by night and by day,
To the times and the joys that are gone;
And I never can forget the maiden I met
In the valley near Slievenamon.

It was not the grace of her queenly air,
Nor her cheek of the rose’s glow,
Nor her soft black eyes, nor her flowing hair
Nor was it her lily-white brow.
‘Twas the soul of truth, and of melting ruth
And the smile like a summer dawn
That stole my heart away, one mild day,
In the valley near Slievenamon.

In the festive hall, by the star-watch’d shore,
My restless spirit cries,
‘My love, oh my love, shall I ne’er see you more,
And, my land, will you ever uprise?’
By night and by day, I ever, ever pray,
While lonely my life flows on,
To see our flag unrolled, and my true love to enfold,
In the valley near Slievenamon.