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

Anner, the River

The Banks of Anner

By Robert Dwyer Joyce (1830–1883)

IN purple robes old Sliavnamon

Towers monarch of the mountains,

The first to catch the smiles of dawn,

With all his woods and fountains;—

His streams dance down by tower and town,

But none since Time began her

Met mortal sight so pure and bright

As winding, wandering Anner.

In hillside’s gleam or woodland’s gloom,

O’er fairy height and hollow,

Upon her banks gay flowerets bloom,

Where’er her course I follow.

And halls of pride tower o’er her tide,

And gleaming bridges span her,

As, laughing gay, she winds away,

The gentle, murmuring Anner.

There gallant men, for freedom born,

With friendly grasp will meet you;

There lovely maids, as bright as morn,

With sunny smiles will greet you;

And there they strove to raise above

The Red, Green Ireland’s banner,—

There yet its fold they ’ll see unrolled

Upon the banks of Anner.

’T is there we ’ll stand, with bosoms proud,

True soldiers of our sireland,

When freedom’s wind blows strong and loud,

And floats the flag of Ireland.

Let tyrants quake, and doubly shake

Each traitor and trepanner,

When once we raise our camp-fire’s blaze

Upon the banks of Anner.

O God! be with the good old days,

The days so light and airy,

When to blithe friends, I sang my lays

In gallant, gay Tipperary;

When fair maids’ sighs and witching eyes

Made my young heart the planner

Of castles rare, built in the air,

Upon the banks of Anner!

The morning sun may fail to show

His light the earth illuming;

Old Sliavnamon to blush and glow

In autumn’s purple blooming;

And shamrocks green no more be seen,

And breezes cease to fan her,

Ere I forget the friends I met

Upon the banks of Anner!