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The Shannon RIVER of billows, to whose mighty heart The tide-wave rushes of the Atlantic sea; River of quiet depths, by cultured lea, Romantic wood, or city’s crowded mart; River of old poetic founts, which start From their lone mountain-cradles, wild and free, Nursed with the fawns, lulled by the woodlark’s glee, And cushat’s hymeneal song apart: River of chieftains, whose baronial halls, Like veteran warders, watch each wave-worn steep, Portumna’s towers, Bunratty’s royal walls, Carrick’s stern rock, the Geraldine’s gray keep,— River of dark mementos! must I close My lips with Limerick’s wrong, with Anghrim’s woes? Aubrey De Vere's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1200 |
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