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| O SWEET Adare, O lovely vale, | |
| O soft retreat of sylvan splendor! | |
| Nor summer sun nor morning gale | |
| E’er hailed a scene more softly tender. | |
| How shall I tell the thousand charms, | 5 |
| Within thy verdant bosom dwelling, | |
| When lulled in Nature’s fostering arms, | |
| Soft peace abides and joy excelling! | |
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| Ye morning airs, how sweet at dawn | |
| The slumbering boughs your song awaken, | 10 |
| Or linger o’er the silent lawn | |
| With odor of the harebell taken. | |
| Thou rising sun, how richly gleams | |
| Thy smile from far Knockfierna’s mountain, | |
| O’er waving woods and bounding streams, | 15 |
| And many a grove and glancing fountain. | |
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| Ye clouds of noon, how freshly there, | |
| When summer heats the open meadows, | |
| O’er parched hill and valley fair, | |
| All coolly lie your veiling shadows. | 20 |
| Ye rolling shades and vapors gray, | |
| Slow creeping o’er the golden heaven, | |
| How soft ye seal the eye of day, | |
| And wreathe the dusky brow of even. | |
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| In sweet Adare the jocund Spring | 25 |
| His notes of odorous joy is breathing; | |
| The wild birds in the woodland sing, | |
| The wild flowers in the vale are breathing. | |
| There winds the Mague, as silver clear, | |
| Among the elms so sweetly flowing; | 30 |
| There fragrant in the early year | |
| Wild roses on the banks are blowing. | |
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| The wild duck seeks the sedgy bank, | |
| Or dives beneath the glistening billow, | |
| Where graceful droop and cluster dank | 35 |
| The osier bright and rustling willow; | |
| The hawthorn scents the leafy dale, | |
| In thicket lone the stag is belling, | |
| And sweet along the echoing vale | |
| The sound of vernal joy is swelling. | 40 |
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