O The Shamrock!

By Thomas Moore

Through Erin's Isle,
To sport awhile,
As Love and Valor wander'd,
With Wit, the sprite,
Whose quiver bright
A thousand arrows squander'd;
Where'er they pass,
A triple grass
Shoots up, with dewdrops streaming,
As softly green
As emeralds seen
Through purest crystal gleaming.
O the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!

Says Valour, See,
They spring for me,
Those leafy gems of morning!
Says Love, No, no,
For me they grow,
My fragrant path adorning.
But Wit perceives
The triple leaves,
And cries, Oh! do not sever
A type, that blends
Three godlike friends,
Love, Valor, Wit, for ever!
O the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!

So firmly fond
May last the bond
They wove that morn together,
And ne'er may fall
One drop of gall
On Wit's celestial feather!
May Love, as twine
His flowers divine,
Of thorny falsehood weed 'em!
May Valor ne'er
His standard rear
Against the cause of Freedom!
O the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!