Thomas Moore

May 28, 1780 - Feb 26, 1852


Oh, Arranmore, Loved Arranmore

by Thomas Moore

Oh! Arranmore, loved Arranmore,
How oft I dream of thee,
And of those days when, by thy shore,
I wander'd young and free.
Full many a part I've tried, since then,
Through pleasure's flowery maze,
But ne'er could find the bliss again
I felt in those sweet days.

How blithe upon thy breezy cliffs
At sunny morn I've stood,
With heart as bounding as the skiffs
That danced along thy flood;
Or, when the western wave grew bright
With daylight's parting wing,
Have sought that Eden in its light
Which dreaming poets sing; --

That Eden where th' immortal brave
Dwell in a land serene,--
Whose bow'rs beyond the shining wave,
At sunset, oft are seen.
Ah! dream too full of sadd'ning truths!
Those mansions o'er the main
Are like the hopes I built in youth,--
As sunny and as vain!

Notes to the poem:

The inhabitants of Arranmore are still persuaded that, in a clear day, they can see from this coast Hy Brysail, or the Enchanted Island, the paradise of the Pagan Irish, and concerning which they relate a number of romantic stories.


The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
Copyright undated, very old
The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.
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