We present this work in honor of St. Patrick’s Day.

 

My own dear native river, how fondly dost thou flow,
By many a fair and sunny scene where I can never go,
Thy waves are free to wander, and quickly on they wind,
Till thou hast left the crowded streets and city far behind;
Beyond I may not follow; thy haunts are not for me;
Yet I love to think on the pleasant track of my own sweet river Lee

The spring-tide now is breathing—when they waters glance along,
Full many a bird salutes thee with bright and cheering song;
Full many a sunbeam falleth upon thy bosom fair,
And every nook thou sleekest hath welcome smiling there.
Glide on, thou blessed river! nor pause to think of me,
Who only in my longing heart can tread that track with thee!

Yet when thy waters wander, where, haughty in decay,
Some grand old Irish castle looks frowning on thy way;
Oh! speak aloud, bold river! how I have wept with pride
To read of those past ages, ere all our glory died,
And wish for one short moment I had been there to see
Such relic of the by-gone day upon thy banks, fair Lee!

And if, in roving onward, thy gladsome waters bound
Where cottage homes are smiling, and children’s voices sound;
Oh! think how sweet and tranquil, beneath the loving sky,
Rejoicing in some country home, my life had glided by,
And grieve one little minute that I can never be
A happy, happy cottager upon thy banks, fair Lee!

Now, fare thee well, glad river! peace smile upon thy way,
And still may sunbeams brighten, where thy wild rimples play!
Oft in that weary city these blue waves leave behind
I’ll think upon the pleasant paths where thy smooth waters wind;
Oh! but for one long summer day, to wander on with thee,
And rove where’er thou rovest, my own sweet river Lee!