To God and Ireland True

Ellen O’Leary (1831–1889)

I SIT beside my darling’s grave,
Who in the prison died,
And though 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 smooth’d
Or softly rais’d 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, ’t is 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.”

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