[These Lines Were Written For A Lady Who Set Them To Music.] My Poor Heart Flutters Like The Sea Now Heaving On The Sandy Shore; It Seems To Tell Me You Shall Be Never Again Near Yarrimore. Far, Far Beyond The Waves, I Bend Mine Eyes, If I Can Land Explore; But O'Er The Waves I Find No End, - Yet There They Say'S My Yarrimore. The Hut He Built Is Standing Still, Deck'D With The Shells He Cull'D From Shore; Our Bow'R Is Waving On The Hill, But Where, Alas! Is Yarrimore? Within That Bow'R I'll Sit And Sigh, From Dawn Of Day Till Day Is O'Er; And, As The Wild Winds O'Er Me Fly, I'll Call On Gentle Yarrimore!