O Bay of Dublin!

O bay of Dublin ! my heart you're troubling
Your beauty haunts me like a fevered dream ;
Like frozen fountains that the sun sets bubblin',
My heart's blood warms when I but hear your name.
And never till this life-pulse ceases,
My earliest thought you'll cease to be ;
O there's no one here knows how fair that place is,
And no one cares how dear it is to me.

Sweet Wicklow mountains ! the sunlight sleeping
On your green banks is a picture rare :
You crowd around me like young girls peeping,
And puzzling me to say which is most fair ;
As though you'd see your own sweet faces,
Reflected in that smooth and silver sea.
O my blessing on those lovely places,
Though no one cares how dear they are to me.

How often when at work I'm sitting,
And musing sadly on the days of yore,
I think I see my Katey knitting,
And the children playing round the cabin door ;
I think I see the neighbours' faces
All gathered round, their long-lost friend to see.
O though no one knows how fair that place is,
Heaven knows how dear my poor home was to me.