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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Ireland: Vol. V. 1876–79.


Sweet Imokilly

By Robert Dwyer Joyce (1830–1883)

I MET, within the greenwood wild,

My own true knight, that loved me dearly,

When summer airs blew soft and mild,

And linnets sang, and waves rolled clearly;

And, O, we pledged such loving vows

In moss-grown glade, all green and rilly,

Where lightly waved the rustling boughs

Of thy green woods, sweet Imokilly!

I met my love in festive hall,

Mid lords, and knights, and warriors fearless,

And there my love among them all

To my fond heart was ever peerless:

And he was fond, and time could ne’er

His love for me make cold and chilly;

Ah! then I knew nor grief nor care

Mid thy green woods, sweet Imokilly!

From Rincrew’s turrets, high and hoar,

When autumn floods were wildly sweeping,

I saw my love ride to the shore,

I saw him in the torrent leaping,

To meet me ’neath the twilight dim,

In bowery nook, secure and stilly;

But the ruthless waters swallowed him,

By thy green woods, sweet Imokilly!