JOYCE, Robert Dwyer

The Wind That Shakes The Barley

I sat within a valley green,

I sat there with my true love,

My sad heart strove the two between,

The old love and the new love, -

The old for her, the new that made

Me think of Ireland dearly,

While soft the wind blew down the glade

And shook the golden barley

'Twas hard the woeful words to frame

To break the ties that bound us

'Twas harder still to bear the shame

Of foreign chains around us

And so I said, "The mountain glen

I'll seek next morning early

And join the brave United Men!"

While soft winds shook the barley

While sad I kissed away her tears,

My fond arms 'round her flinging,

The foeman's shot burst on our ears,

From out the wildwood ringing, -

A bullet pierced my true love's side,

In life's young spring so early,

And on my breast in blood she died

While soft winds shook the barley!

I bore her to the wildwood screen,

And many a summer blossom

I placed with branches thick and green

Above her gore-stain'd bosom:-

I wept and kissed her pale, pale cheek,

Then rushed o'er vale and far lea,

My vengeance on the foe to wreak,

While soft winds shook the barley!

But blood for blood without remorse,

I've ta'en at Oulart Hollow

And placed my true love's clay-cold corpse

Where I full soon will follow;

And 'round her grave I wander drear,

Noon, night, and morning early,

With breaking heart whene'er I hear

The wind that shakes the barley