Oh The Shamrock.

    Thro' Erin's Isle,
    To sport awhile,
As Love and Valor wandered,
    With Wit, the sprite,
    Whose quiver bright
A thousand arrows squandered.
    Where'er they pass,
    A triple grass[1]
Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming.
    As softly green
    As emeralds seen
Thro' purest crystal gleaming.
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
    Chosen leaf.
    Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!

    Says Valor, "See,
    "They spring for me,
"Those leafy gems of morning!"--
    Says Love, "No, no,
    "For me they grow,
"My fragrant path adorning."
    But Wit perceives
    The triple leaves,
And cries, "Oh! do not sever
    "A type, that blends
    "Three godlike friends,
"Love, Valor, Wit, for ever!"
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
    Chosen leaf
    Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!

    So firmly fond
    May last the bond,
They wove that morn together,
    And ne'er may fall
    One drop of gall
On Wit's celestial feather.
    May Love, as twine
    His flowers divine.
Of thorny falsehood weed 'em;
    May Valor ne'er
    His standard rear
Against the cause of Freedom!
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
    Chosen leaf
    Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!