Her brow is like the lily, Her cheek is like the rose, And fair as daffodilly Her yellow coolun flows. Ne’er blue so tender Flowed in a glance, And ne’er shape as slender Went gliding in the dance. ‘Twas up among the mountains, She lived all alone, Where Connemara’s fountains Fall chiming on the stone. Singing I found her Down in a dell, With all the birds round her Entranced before her spell. I asked why she was leading So lonesome a life, And long my passion pleading, Besought her for my wife. “Ah! Hasty lover, You woo in vain, But when a year’s over Come seek me here again.” Oh! Early up the mountain When that year was o’er, The creeping minutes counting, I climbed and climbed once more, Till at last I found you, Dear Valentine, And stole my arms around you, And knew your heart was mine.
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Charles Villiers Stanford, Sir (1852 - 1924), "Her brow is like the lily", published [1882?] [voice and piano], from the collection Songs of Old Ireland. A Collection of Fifty Irish Melodies Unknown in England, no. 19, arrangement ; London, Boosey & Co. ; dedicated to Johannes Brahms, August 1882 [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Mike Pearson
This text was added to the website: 2015-04-08
Line count: 32
Word count: 150