Oh! Arranmore, Loved Arranmore, How Oft I Dream Of Thee, And Of Those Days When, By Thy Shore, I Wandered Young And Free. Full Many A Path I've Tried, Since Then, Thro' Pleasure'S Flowery Maze, But Ne'er Could Find The Bliss Again I Felt In Those Sweet Days. How Blithe Upon Thy Breezy Cliffs, At Sunny Morn I've Stood, With Heart As Bounding As The Skiffs That Danced Along Thy Flood; Or, When The Western Wave Grew Bright With Daylight'S Parting Wing, Have Sought That Eden In Its Light, Which Dreaming Poets Sing;[1]-- That Eden Where The Immortal Brave Dwell In A Land Serene,-- Whose Bowers Beyond The Shining Wave, At Sunset, Oft Are Seen. Ah Dream Too Full Of Saddening Truth! Those Mansions O'Er The Main Are Like The Hopes I Built In Youth,-- As Sunny And As Vain!