School: Clochar na Toirbhirte, Lios Mór

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1. Lismore

   

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   Lismore! thou fair, thou hallowed spot.
   What glories once were thine,
   Thou reignest like a queen of old,
   Beside the Irish Rhyne.

   Now thro' thy tinted woodlands fair,
   The Autumn breezes sigh,
   As sorrowing the garb of Spring
   That flourished but to die.

   Thy beauteous valleys winding green,
   'Neath hillsides high, and low,
   What memories fond do they recall
   Of days gone long ago.

   How often have the muses clad,
   In garb of rustic brown,
   Found shelter 'mong thine aged oaks,
   Dear, Dear old sainted Town.

   Those placid water gliding by,
   Reflect a Castle grand,
   Thy feathered songsters sweeter sing,
   Than any in the land.

   (continues on next page)

   

   Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.

   History Edit

   Language

   English

   Collector

   Eva Forde

   Gender

   Female

   Address

   Lismore, Co. Waterford