The Moon Behind the Hill

I watched last night the rising moon
Upon a foreign strand,
Till memories came, like flowers of June,
Of home and fatherland ;
I dreamt I was a child once more
Beside the rippling rill,
Where first I saw in days of yore
The moon behind the hill.

It brought me back the visions grand
That purpled boyhood's dreams ;
Its youthful loves, its happy land,
As bright as morning's beams.
It brought me back my own sweet Nore,
The castle and the mill,
Until my eyes could see no more
The moon behind the hill.

It brought me back a mother's love,
Until, in accents wild,
I prayed her from her home above
To guard her lonely child ;
It brought me one across the wave,
To live in memory still —
It brought me back my Kathleen's grave,
The moon behind the hill.