SHAMROCK Print

The Shamrock by Thomas Moore A " Melody " of Tom Moore's . 1813. Through Erin's isle, To sport awhile, As Love and Valour wander'd With Wit the sprite, Whose quiver bright A thousand arrows squander'd: Where'er they pass, A triple grass Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming, As softly green As emeralds seen Through purest crystal gleaming. O the shamrock! The green immortal shamrock! Chosen leaf of bard and chief — Old Erin's native shamrock! Says Valour, " See! They spring for me. Those leafy gems of morning; " Says Love, " No, no, For me they grow, My fragrant path adorning. " But Wit perceives The triple leaves, And cries, " O, do not sever A type that blends Three godlike friends — Wit, Valour, Love, for ever! " O the shamrock! The green immortal shamrock! Chosen leaf of bard and chief, Old Erin's native shamrock! So firm and fond May last the bond They wove that morn together; And ne'er may fall One drop of gall On Wit's celestial feather! May Love, as shoot His flowers and fruit, Of thorny falsehood weed them; Let Valour ne'er His standard rear Against the cause of freedom, Or of the shamrock, The green immortal shamrock! Chosen leaf of bard and chief, Old Erin's native shamrock!