I sit beside my darling's grave,
Who in the prison died,
And tho' my tears fall thick and fast,
I think of him with pride:--
Ay, softly fall my tears like dew,
For one to God and Ireland true.
'I love my God o'er all,' he said,
'And then I love my land,
And next I love my Lily sweet,
Who pledged me her white hand:--
To each--to all--I'm ever true,
To God--to Ireland and to you.'
No tender nurse his hard bed smoothed
Or softly raised his head:--
He fell asleep and woke in heaven
Ere I knew he was dead;--
Yet why should I my darling rue?
He was to God and Ireland true.
O, 'tis a glorious memory;
I'm prouder than a queen
To sit beside my hero's grave
And think on what has been:--
And O, my darling, I am true
To God--to Ireland and to you!
_Ellen O'Leary_