Gougane Barra

There is a green island in lone Gougane Barra,

Where Allua of songs rushes forth as an arrow;

In deep-valley'd Desmond - a thousand wild fountains 

Come down to that lake from their homes in the mountains.

There grows the wild ash, and a time stricken willow

Looks chidingly down on the mirth of the billow;

As, like some gay child, that sad monitor scorning,

It lightly laughs back to the laugh of the morning.