Ellen O’Leary (1831–1889)

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.

Oh! ’tis a glorious memory,

I’m prouder than a queen,

To sit beside my hero’s grave,

And think on what has been;

And, oh my darling, I am true

To God—to Ireland—and to you.