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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