And my pride is relieved from this touch of disgrace.
Thou wilt help to make Erin "great, glorious and free,"
And I bless thee my silver-tongued D'Arcy McGee.




NORA TO DAVID HERBISON.


There's a place in the North where the bonnie broom grows,
Where winding through green meadows the silver Maine flows,
Every lark as it soars and sings that sweet spot knows;
For the mate for whom it sings,
Till the clear blue heaven rings,
Is brooding on its nest mid the daisies in the grass;
And that psalmist sweet, the thrush,
And the linnet in the bush,
Tell the children all their secrets in song as they pass.

Oh brightly shines the sun there where wee birdies sing,
A glamour's o'er the buds in the green lap of spring,
In happy, happy laughter children's voices ring!
Like some fair enchanted ground,
In memory it is found,
Where my childhood's golden hours of happiness were spent;
There within a leafy nook,
I have pored upon a book
Till romance and fairy lore with every thought were blent.