Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

OH! Arranmore, loved Arranmore,

      How oft I dream of thee,

And of those days when, by thy shore,

      I wander’d young and free.

Full many a path I’ve tried, since then,

      Through pleasure’s flowery maze,

But ne’er could find the bliss again

      I felt in those sweet days.

How blithe upon thy breezy cliffs

      At sunny morn I’ve stood,

With heart as bounding as the skiffs

      That danced along thy flood;

Or, when the western wave grew bright

      With daylight’s parting wing,

Have sought that Eden in its light

      Which dreaming poets sing;

That Eden where the immortal brave

      Dwell in a land serene —

Whose bowers beyond the shining wave

      At sunset, oft are seen.

Ah, dream too full of saddening truth!

      Those mansions o’er the main

Are like the hopes I built in youth —

      As sunny and as vain!