Oh, the Shamrock

Through Erin's Isle
To sport awhile
  As Love and Valour wander'd,
With Wit, the sprite,
Whose quiver bright
  A thousand arrows squander'd;
Where'er they pass,
A triple grass
  Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming,
As softly green
As emeralds seen
  Through purest crystal gleaming.
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
  Old Erin's native Shamrock!

Says Valour, "See,
They spring for me,
  Those leafy gems of morning!" —
Says Love, "No, no,
For me they grow,
  My fragrant path adorning."
But Wit perceives
The triple leaves,
  And cries, "Oh! do not sever
A type that blends
Three godlike friends,
  Love, Valour, Wit, for ever!"
Oh, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf, etc.

So firmly fond
May last the bond
  They wove that morn together,
And ne'er may fall
One drop of gall
  On Wit's celestial feather.
May Love, as twine
His flowers divine,
  Of thorny falsehood weed 'em:
May Valour ne'er
His standard rear
  Against the cause of Freedom!
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
Chosen leaf, etc.