Killiney Far Away

To Killiney far away, flies my fond heart night and day,
To ramble light and happy through its fields and dells ;
For here life smiles in vain, and earth's a land of pain,
While all that's bright in Erin in Killiney dwells.

In Killiney in the West has a linnet sweet her nest,
And her song makes all the wild birds in the greenwood dumb;
To the captive without cheer, it were freedom but to hear
Such sorrow-soothing music from her fair throat come.

In Killiney's bower blows a blushing, budding rose,
Writh perfume of the rarest that the June day yields ;
And none who pass that way, but sighing wish that they
Might cull that fragrant flower of the dewy fields.

Through Killiney's meadows pass, on their way to early Mass,
Like twin stars 'mid the grass, two small feet bare ;
And angel-pure the heart, where the murmured Aves start
On their winged way to heaven from the chapel there.

The pride of Irish girls is the dear brown head of curls,
The pearl white of pearls, stoirin ban mo chroidhe ;
As bright-browed as the dawn, and as meek-eyed as the fawn,
And as graceful as the swan gliding on to sea.

Not for jewels, nor for gold, nor for hoarded wealth untold,
Not for all that mortals hold most desired and dear,
Would I my share forego in the loving heart aglow,
That beats beneath the snow of her bosom fair.

Soon, Killiney, will you weep — for I'll know not rest or sleep.
Till swiftly o'er the deep I with white sails come,
To win the linnet sweet, and the two white twinkling feet,
And the heart with true love beating, to my far-off home.

And O farewell to care, when the rose of perfume rare,
And the dear brown curling hair on my proud breast lie;
Then, Killiney far away, never more by night nor day,
To thy skies, or dark or grey, shall my fond heart fly.