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Thomas Moore - Oh, the Shamrock
Work rating: Medium

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. 
Oh 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, "Oh! do not sever 
A type that blends 
Three godlike friends, 
   Love, Valour, Wit, for ever!" 
Oh, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! 
Chosen leaf, etc. 

So firmly 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 twine 
His flowers divine, 
   Of thorny falsehood weed `em: 
May Valour ne`er 
His standard rear 
   Against the cause of Freedom! 
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! 
Chosen leaf, etc.
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