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STAR OF MY SIGHT, by                     Poet's Biography




STAR of my sight, you gentle Breedyeen,
Often at night I am sick and grieving;
I am ill, I know it, and no deceiving,
And grief on the wind blows no relieving.


0 wind, if passing by that grey boreen,
Blow my blessing unto my storeen;
Were I on the spot I should hear her calling,
But I am not, and my tears are falling.


Into the post I put a letter
Telling my love that I was no better;
Small the loss, was her answer to me,
A lover's mind should be always gloomy.


Wind, greet the mountain where she I prize is
When the gold moon sets and the white sun rises;
A grey fog hangs over cursed Dublin,
It fills my lungs and my heart it's troubling.


Ochone Ifor the death, when the breath is going!
I thought to bribe it with bumpers flowing;
I'd give what men see from yonder steeple
To be in Loughrea and amongst my people.


Och, the long high-roads I shall never travel!
Worn my brogues are, with stones and gravel;
Though I went to mass, there was no devotion,
But to see her pass with her swan-like motion.


Farewell Loughrea, and a long farewell to you;
Many's the pleasant day I spent in you,
Drinking with friends, and my love beside me,
I little dreamt then of what should betide me.






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