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


The Hill of Killenarden

By Charles Graham Halpine (1829–1868)

THOUGH time effaces memory,

And griefs the bosom harden,

I ’ll ne’er forget, where’er I be,

That day at Killenarden;

For there, while fancy revelled wide,

The summer’s day flew o’er me;

The friends I loved were at my side,

And Irish fields before me.

The road was steep; the pelting showers

Had cooled the sod beneath us;

And there were lots of mountain flowers,

A garland to enwreathe us.

Far, far below the landscape shone

With wheat and new-mown meadows,

And as o’erhead the clouds flew on,

Beneath swept on their shadows.

O friends, beyond the Atlantic’s foam

There may be nobler mountains,

And in our new far Western home

Green fields and brighter fountains;

But as for me, let time destroy

All dreams, but this one pardon,

And barren memory long enjoy

That day on Killenarden.