Do na Daracha i nGleann Crí
Mo dhá lámh i do thimpeall, dlúth leat atáim
agus an fhuiseog go hard sa spéir
ag canadh dúinn, soilse órga go sámh
is glas-scáileanna ar do choirt go léir.
Tiocfaidh an t-am is leathfaidh tú do chlár
duairc orm is mé i mo luí
i Reilig Chnoc Ieróim, ainniseoir gan aird
i dteannta na bpéisteanna go síoraí.
To the Oaks of Glencree
J M Synge
My arms are round you, and I lean
Against you, while the lark
Sings over us, and golden lights, and green
Shadows are on your bark.
There'll come a season when you'll stretch
Black boards to cover me;
Then in Mount Jerome I will lie, poor wretch,
With worms eternally.