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!