On the strand of Howth
Breaks a sounding wave;
A lone sea-gull screams
Above the bay.
In the middle of the meadow
Beside Glasnevin
The corncrake speaks
All night long.
There is minstrelsy of birds
In Glenasmole,
The blackbird and thrush
Chanting music.
There is shining of sun
On the side of Slieverua,
And the wind blowing
Down over its brow.
On the harbour of Dunleary
Are boat and ship
With sails set
Ploughing the waves.
Here in Ireland,
Am I, my brother,
And you far from me
In gallant Paris,
I beholding
Hill and harbour,
The strand of Howth
And Slieverua’s side,
And you victorious
In mighty Paris
Of the limewhite palaces
And the surging hosts;
And what I ask
Of you, beloved,
Far away
Is to think at times
Of the corncrake’s tune
Beside Glasnevin
In the middle of the meadow,
Speaking in the night;
Of the voice of the birds
In Glenasmole
Happily, with melody,
Chanting music;
Of the strand of Howth
Where a wave breaks,
And the harbour of Dunleary,
Where a ship rocks;
On the sun that shines
On the side of Slieverua,
And the wind that blows
Down over its brow.
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