My source for this poem is in the July 22 post above. The copyright of the book is 1970 by J.B. Ford and company. I am copying this for your educational non-profit purposes!!

LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT
Lady Dufferin

I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side
On a bright May mornin' long ago,
When first you were my bride;
The corn was springin' fresh and green,
And the lark sang loud and high;
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love-light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary;
The day is bright as then;
The lark's loud song is in my ear,
And the corn is green again;
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your breath warm on my cheek;
And I still keep list'nin' for the words
You nevermore will speak.

'T is but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near,
The church where we were wed, Mary;
I see the spire from here.
But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest, -
For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends;
But, O, they love the better still
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary,-
My blessin' and my pride;
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm's young strength was gone.
There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your brow, -
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you cannot hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to break, -
When the hunger pain was gnawin' there,
And you hid it for my sake;
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and sore, -
O, I'm thankful that you're gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more!

I'm biddin' you a long farewell,
My Mary - kind and true!
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm goin' to;
They say there's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always there, -
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair!

And often in those grand old woods
I'll sit and shut my eyes,
And my heart will travel back again,
To the place where Mary lies.
And I'll think I see the little stile
Where we sat side by side,
And the springin' corn, and the bright May morn,
When first you were my bride.

This sad story reminds me of the memoirs of my family who left Leitrim and came to the US. To quote my great-aunt Alice, in part, "...His grandfather, Peter Flynn, was the last of his family able to maintain himself during the chronic impoverishment of unhappy Ireland. In the case of his father, Lawrence Flynn, and that of my father, this impoverishment was increased by the extravagance of the landlord and his big family....Peter Flynn loved Ireland with all the passion of a patriot, but he saw the futility of revolt and found support in the warnings of their parish priest, 'Ireland has never gained anything through the shedding of blood.' -- words still only too true. Father went to Minnesota in 1880, crossing the Atlantic on the 'City of Limerick'. Mother said that he bid goodbye the night before and that he stole away before daybreak the next morning with many tears because he realized that he probably would never return to Ireland... We left Ireland two years later...Father asked mother to bring a blackthorn stick, but the one she selected was entirely too dainty for his taste..."
This has been a long message, hope I haven't "hogged" this space!!! Alice ^^