Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Ireland: Vol. V. 1876–79.
Glandore
By Rev. Dr. Patrick Aloysius MurrayT
Fairy land of tuneful song,
Though my lips forget to tell
Thoughts they once could utter well,
How can I, with heart and tongue,
See unloved, or love unsung,
Scenes like those that rise before
The enchanted eye in sweet Glandore?
Claims my soul and senses all,
Saints might sing a type like this
Of their own bright realms of bliss;
Man may tell in strains of love,
O, how fair the world above,
When such beauty beameth o’er
The heaven below of sweet Glandore!
Cliff and shore and forest tree,
Glen and stream and mountain blue,
Burst at once upon the view;
The gay, the beautiful, the grand,
Blending over wave and land,
Till the eye can ask no more
Than it hath in sweet Glandore.
And the emerald of the lea,
And the ever smiling skies
Charm not heart or soul or eyes,
Like the grasp of friendship’s hand,
Like the welcome warm and bland,
As the sunlight gleaming o’er
The happy homes of sweet Glandore.
Smiled of heaven the image fair,
Like the beautiful in death,
Have nor soul nor voice nor breath;
O, ’t is but the kindly heart
Can to them true life impart.
Tree and flower, and sea and shore,
Thus live and breathe in sweet Glandore.
Glowing heart and chainless mind;
They droop,—the flowers of fancy, youth,
Round the ripening fruits of truth;
Yet I feel, while here I stray,
Dawn again youth’s sunny day;
Fancy, with her radiant store,
Comes again in sweet Glandore.
Friends beloved forevermore!
Mid the tranquil bliss I feel
One sad thought begins to steal,—
Soon must come the parting day,
And my steps no more will stray,
And my voice be heard no more
Among the scenes of sweet Glandore!