Of the gallant deeds of the all but vanished race,
The high O'Neils who kept with princely state their place
Of their white armed daughters in beauty's woeful race
In that joyful youthful time
All my pulses beat to rhyme,
I thought what you were doing that I would also do,
I would praise the bonnie North,
And draw its legends forth
From cottage and from castle the pleasant country through

I'd make the land I loved in poesy to shine,
The Maine should flow along in "many a tuneful line,"
Songs praising hills and streams full sweetly should be mine,
And the legends I would sing,
From lip to lip should ring,
My native land should ask for, and hear my humble name;
When like her tuneful son,
Green laurels I had won,
I'd think her love for me was better far than fame.

Blessed be the green recess by the sweet Maine water where
I a little child with my child friend sweet and fair
Built with golden fancies this castle in the air!
My child friend is at rest,
Erin's shamrock's on her breast,
I her little minstrel am all unknown to fame,
For the songs are all unsung,
And not a northern tongue
Has spoken once in praise my very unknown name