Poem by Charles Graham Halpine

The Hill of Killenarden

THOUGH time effaces memory,
  And griefs the bosom harden,
I ’ll ne’er forget, where’er I be,
  That day at Killenarden;
For there, while fancy revelled wide,
  The summer’s day flew o’er me;
The friends I loved were at my side,
  And Irish fields before me.

The road was steep; the pelting showers
  Had cooled the sod beneath us;
And there were lots of mountain flowers,
  A garland to enwreathe us.
Far, far below the landscape shone
  With wheat and new-mown meadows,
And as o’erhead the clouds flew on,
  Beneath swept on their shadows.

O friends, beyond the Atlantic’s foam
  There may be nobler mountains,
And in our new far Western home
  Green fields and brighter fountains;
But as for me, let time destroy
  All dreams, but this one pardon,
And barren memory long enjoy
  That day on Killenarden.

1. April 20, 1864
2. Soon We'll Have the Union Back
3. Lincoln
4. The Song of the Soldiers
5. The Same Canteen

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