| |
| AS chimes that flow o’er shining seas | |
| When Morn alights on meads of May, | |
| Faint voices fill the western breeze | |
| With whisp’ring songs from Far-Away. | |
| Oh, dear the dells of Dunamore, | 5 |
| A home is odorous Ossory; | |
| But sweet as honey, running o’er, | |
| The Golden Shore of Far-Away! | |
| |
| There grows the Tree whose summer breath | |
| Perfumes with joy the azure air; | 10 |
| And he who feels it fears not Death, | |
| Nor longer heeds the hounds of Care. | |
| Oh, soft the skies of Seskinore, | |
| And mild is meadowy Mellaray; | |
| But sweet as honey, running o’er, | 15 |
| The Golden Shore of Far-Away. | |
| |
| There sings the Voice whose wondrous tune | |
| Falls, like diamond-showers above | |
| That in the radiant day of June | |
| Renew a world of Youth and Love. | 20 |
| Oh, fair the founts of Farranfore, | |
| And bright is billowy Ballintrae; | |
| But sweet as honey, running o’er, | |
| The Golden Shore of Far-Away. | |
| |
| Come, Fragrance of the Flowering Tree, | 25 |
| Oh, sing, sweet Bird, thy magic lay, | |
| Till all the world be young with me, | |
| And Love shall lead us far away. | |
| Oh, dear the dells of Dunamore, | |
| A home is odorous Ossory; | 30 |
| But sweet as honey, running o’er | |
| The Golden Shore of Far-Away. | |
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