The Willow Tree

I remember very well the eve’ I stood beside him
Beneath the weeping willow tree, where oft we’d stood before.
He told me that he must away, but that he’d someday port here;
And so my lover sailed afar from me and Ireland’s shore.

Every morn at sunrise I walked beside the breakers
And stood beneath the willow tree where oft we stood before.
Ne’er did the white of canvas crest those foaming waves of emerald,
So waited I, the tree beside, on Ireland’s stony shore.

So moon and sun both rose and set for many an eve and morning,
To find me by the willow tree, where oft we’d stood before.
The willow danced to western winds that caused my heart to leaping,
But dance — not I, till by and by, a ship’s on Ireland’s shore.

Still I stand beside the tree that sheltered love when blooming;
But now I cry beside those vines where oft I’ve stood before.
My every hope and heartbeat held his ship above the water,
And every wind that carried him was a sigh from Ireland’s shore.

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