Oh The Shamrock.

Thro' Erin's Isle,          To sport awhile,     As Love and Valor wandered,          With Wit, the sprite,          Whose quiver bright     A thousand arrows squandered.          Where'er they pass,          A triple grass[1]     Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming.          As softly green          As emeralds seen     Thro' purest crystal gleaming.     Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!          Chosen leaf.          Of Bard and Chief,     Old Erin's native Shamrock!          Says Valor, "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, Valor, Wit, for ever!"     Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!          Chosen leaf          Of Bard and Chief,     Old Erin's native Shamrock!          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 Valor ne'er          His standard rear     Against the cause of Freedom!     Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!          Chosen leaf          Of Bard and Chief,     Old Erin's native Shamrock!