On Shannon side the day is closing fair,
The kern sits musing by his shieling low,
And marks, beyond the lonely hills of Clare,
Blue, rimmed with gold, the clouds of sunset glow.
Hush in that sun the wide-spread waters flow,
Returning warm the day's departing smile;
Along the sunny highland pacing slow
The keyriaght lingers with his herd the while.
And bells are tolling faint from far Saint Sinon's isle.
O loved shore! with softest memories twined,
Sweet fall the summer on thy margin fair!
And peace come whispering, like a morning wind,
Dear thoughts of love to every bosom there!
The horrid wreck and driving storm forbear
Thy smiling strand, nor oft the accents swell
Along thy hills of grief or heart-wrung care;
But heaven look down upon each lowly dell,
And bless thee for the joys I yet remember well!