Poem by Thomas Davis

The Banks of the Lee

O, THE BANKS of the Lee, the banks of the Lee,
And love in a cottage for Mary and me!
There ’s not in the land a lovelier tide,
And I ’m sure that there ’s no one so fair as my bride.
    She ’s modest and meek,
    There ’s a down on her cheek,
    And her skin is as sleek
      As a butterfly’s wing;
    Then her step would scarce show
    On the fresh-fallen snow,
    And her whisper is low,
      But as clear as the spring.
O the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee,
And love in a cottage for Mary and me!
I know not how love is happy elsewhere,
I know not how any but lovers are there.

O, so green is the grass, so clear is the stream,
So mild is the mist and so rich is the beam,
That beauty should never to other lands roam,
But make on the banks of our river its home!
    When, dripping with dew,
    The roses peep through,
    ’T is to look in at you
      They are growing so fast;
    While the scent of the flowers
    Must be hoarded for hours,
    ’T is poured in such showers
      When my Mary goes past.
O the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee,
And love in a cottage for Mary and me!
O, Mary for me, Mary for me,
And ’t is little I ’d sigh for the banks of the Lee!

1. The Geraldines
2. Emmeline Talbot
3. O'Brien of Arra
4. The Welcome
5. The Green above the Red

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