As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving,Her trembling pennant still looked back To that dear isle "twas leaving.
So loth we part from all we love, From all the links that bind us;So turn our hearts, as on we rove, To those we"ve left behind us !
When, round the bowl, of vanished years We talk with joyous seeming-With smiles that might as well be tears, So faint, so sad their beaming;While memory brings us back again Each early tie that twined us,Oh, sweet"s the cup that circles then To those we"ve left behind us!
And, when in other climes we meet Some isle or vale enchanting,Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,
And naught but love is wanting,
We think how great had been our bliss If Heaven had but assigned usTo live and die in scenes like this, With some we"ve left behind us!
As travellers oft look back at eve When eastward darkly going,To gaze upon that light they leave Still faint behind them glowing-So, when the close of pleasure"s day To gloom hath near consigned us,We turn to catch one fading ray Of joy that"s left behind us.
Thomas Moore
General.-Another sad poem of scenes and days departed. To what other climes have Irishmen gone? Mention some that have won to prominence in Australia and elsewhere. What is most missed by the emigrant? Dwell on the last stanza, where a lifetime and a day are compared.
