Analysis of Curraghmore. A Seat of the Marquis of Waterford.

(The name signifies " the great plain," and the
surrounding country is of singular beauty and fertility.)

Summer, shining summer,
Art thou bringing now
Colours to the red rose,
Green leaves to the bough,
Music to the singing birds,
And honey to the bee ;
Summer, shining summer,
Oh, welcome unto thee.

Now linger in our valley,
Oh, why should thou go forth,
To thaw the snow and icicles
Of the eternal North ?
Where wilt thou find a valley
More lovely for your home ?
Ah ! even now the shadows
Are lengthening as they come.

Well, Autumn, thou art welcome,
With sheaves of ripened corn,
The hunter's moon is shining,
The hills ring with his horn.
The grapes are dyed with purple,
The leaves are tinged with red,
And the green and golden plumage
Of the pheasant's wing is spread.

What ? snow upon the mountains !
Heap pine boughs on the hearth ;
Broach ye the crimson Malvoisie,
Let the old hall ring with mirth.
Fill the lattices with holly,
Let the lamps and torches blaze,
And let the ancient harper
Sing songs of other days.

Alas, thou gladsome Winter,
Thy festival is done,
Thy frost-work world of gossamer
Is melting in the sun.
Forth come the early violets,
Such pale blue in their eyes,
As if they caught their colour
From gazing on the skies.

And a green and tender verdure
Is on the hawthorn tree,
And a break of crimson promise
Shews what the rose will be.
The primrose clothes the meadow,
The birds are on the wing,
And a thousand flowers are waking
Beneath the feet of Spring.

Let the year pursue its changes,
Let the seasons fade and fall,
That valley has a welcome
And a beauty for them all.