A Protestant Irishman To His Wife.
By Thomas Frederick Young
"Just forty years to-day, my dear,
We sail'd from Irish waters,
And bade farewell, with many a tear,
To Erin's sons and daughters.
"You'll recollect how ach'd our hearts,
That day in Tipperary,
When we set forth for foreign parts,
For distant woods or prairie.
"You know our very hearts were rent
With grief, almost asunder,
And if we thought all joy was spent,
No exil'd heart will wonder.
"But soon we reach'd our strange, new home,
Where mighty forests flourish'd,
With others, forc'd like us to roam,
Who in our isle were nourish'd.
"But now I'm fairly happy here,
And so are you, my Mary,
But still I've seen you drop a tear
Betimes, for Tipperary.
"We've many friends from home, here, now,
And some we call our brothers,
While some we meet with clouded brow, -
Their creed, our feeling smothers.
"There's some from Dublin, Cork, indeed
There's some from distant Galway,
But ev'ry man, whate'er his creed,
Should own his country, alway.
"Tho' one attends the church, and one
Devoutly seeks the chapel,
Agreeably they yet might run,
Nor have one discord apple.
"True Irishmen have often met,
One common cause to feel,
And many a furious onset met,
With 'valor's clashing steel.'
"And surely there will come a day,
When common thoughts and aims,
Will shed a pure and healthy ray,
And show what duty claims.
"Sure Parson E. went o'er the sea,
And back he came so smiley,
With stick so fine from black-thorn tree,
For father John O'Rielly.
"Thus we, as Irishmen, should ne'er
Forget our common land,
Or claims of breth'ren, ev'rywhere,
Upon our heart and hand."