Knockmany, my darling, I see you again,
As the sunrise has made you a King ;
And your proud face looks tenderly down on the plain
Where my young larks are learning to sing.
At your feet lies our vale, but sure that’s no disgrace.
If your arms had their will, they would cover
Every inch of the ground, from Dunroe to Millrace,
With the sweet silent care of a lover.
To that green heart of yours have I stolen my way
With my first joy and pain and misgiving.
Dear Mountain ! old friend, ah ! I would that to-day
You could thus share the life I am living.
For one draught of your breath would flow into my
Like the rain to the thirsty green corn ;
And I know ‘neath your smile all my cares would
As the night shadows flee from the morn.