Far-Away

George Sigerson (1836–1925)

AS chimes that flow o’er shining seas

When Morn alights on meads of May,

Faint voices fill the western breeze

With whisp’ring songs from Far-Away.

Oh, dear the dells of Dunamore,

A home is odorous Ossory;

But sweet as honey, running o’er,

The Golden Shore of Far-Away!

There grows the Tree whose summer breath

Perfumes with joy the azure air;

And he who feels it fears not Death,

Nor longer heeds the hounds of Care.

Oh, soft the skies of Seskinore,

And mild is meadowy Mellaray;

But sweet as honey, running o’er,

The Golden Shore of Far-Away.

There sings the Voice whose wondrous tune

Falls, like diamond-showers above

That in the radiant day of June

Renew a world of Youth and Love.

Oh, fair the founts of Farranfore,

And bright is billowy Ballintrae;

But sweet as honey, running o’er,

The Golden Shore of Far-Away.

Come, Fragrance of the Flowering Tree,

Oh, sing, sweet Bird, thy magic lay,

Till all the world be young with me,

And Love shall lead us far away.

Oh, dear the dells of Dunamore,

A home is odorous Ossory;

But sweet as honey, running o’er

The Golden Shore of Far-Away.