Jessie Willcox Smith
An Irish Folk Song
Lyrics By Thomas Moore
There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream,
And the night-in-gale sings round it all day long;
In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream,
To sit in the roses and hear the birds' song.
The bow'r and its music I'll never forget,
But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think:
Is the night-in-gale singing there yet?
Are the roses still bright by the calm of Bendemeer?
No, the roses soon withered that hung o'er the wave,
But some blossoms were gathered while freshly they shone,
And dew was distilled from their flowers,
That gave all the fragrance of summer,
When summer was gone.
Thus the memory draws from delight, ere it dies,
An essence that breathes of it many a year;
Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that bow'r on the banks of the calm Bendemeer.
By Thomas Kinkade