Bless the dear old verdant land!
  Brother, wert thou born of it?
As thy shadow life doth stand
Twining round its rosy band,
Did an Irish mother’s hand
  Guide thee in the morn of it?
Did a father’s first command
  Teach thee love or scorn of it?

Thou who tread’st its fertile breast,
  Dost thou feel a glow for it?...