Padraic Colum (1881–1972). Anthology of Irish Verse. 1922.
By George Petrie56. At the Yellow Bohereen
A
Is my heart’s secret queen,
Alone on her soft bed a-sleeping;
Each tress of her hair,
Than the King’s gold more fair,
The dew from the grass might be sweeping.
Who has watched her fair face;
And away from her ever I’m sighing,
And, oh, my heart’s store,
Be not grieved ever more,
That for you a young man should be dying!
I would build her a home,
The finest e’er told of in Eirinn;
And ’tis then she would shine,
And her fame ne’er decline,
For beauty o’er all the palm bearing.
Shines the pure, sunny light,
As on your smooth brow graceful ever;
And, oh, could I say
You’re my own from this day,
Death’s contest would frighten me never!