Dear Carrigaline

Dear Carrigaline ! with what rapture I've trod,
In the bright days of childhood, thy emerald sod,
Or, wearied with play, have reposed in the shade
Which the hawthorn and beech by thy clear water made,
While joy on my soul seemed as calmly to shine
As the sun on thy waters, loved Carrigaline !

And later, in boyhood, when passion's young thrill
Made thy soft looks of loveliness lovelier still,
How oft by the margin of shady Coolmore
I've whispered fond vows of idolatry o'er,
While the hand of the loved one, clasped warmly in mine,
Made thy shores seem an Eden, dear Carrigaline !

Now years have passed over, and loved ones are lost,
And o'er life's calm waters the tempest hath crossed ;
And I visit thy shores after dark days of ill,
And I find them all peaceful and beautiful still ;
Ah ! I would that life's wave could flow tranquil as thine,
When the storm has passed o'er it, loved Carrigaline !

But that wave looks dreariest after the storm,
When the wrecks of young hope its dark bosom deform :
And the heart, like a lone bark, floats mournfully on,
While the comrades it sailed with are shattered and gone ;
Yet even in my sorrow 'tis sweet to recline
Once more on thy green sward, loved Carrigaline !

Still calm be thy water, and bright be thy shore,
And young hearts be blessed there as mine was of yore ;
For surely, if Nature has painted a scene
Where the dream of existence may still be serene,
And joy on the soul may unfadingly shine,
That scene is thy margin, dear Carrigaline !