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Ireland

I travel far and wide to see,
A sea as blue and grass as green, 
As I see whilst I am at home; 
On the sweet Isle o' Eire.

I wander o'er hilltops and fields; 
Climb o'er mountains o' the highest
Peaks and still find the horizons
Primitive in beauty and bleak.

For Ireland's emerald hills,
And her rough, rolling, sapphire seas; 
Burden one with a heavy heart
And pain when one is forced to leave. 

Though I may be taken on wings
To foreign lands, my heart remains 
On Ireland's sweet, sacred soil 
Beating twice at every wonder.

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