Just a few songs of her,
Not of the wrongs of her
Many and bitter and long though they be,—
Songs of the hills of her,
Songs of the rills of her,
Ireland, set like a gem in the sea!
Just a few songs of her,
Not of the thongs of her,
She that is bound, and yet fain would be free,—
Songs of the gleams of her,
Glamours and dreams of her,
Ireland, girt by the arms of the sea!