<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476267" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Drinaun Donn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A HUNDRED men think I am theirs when with them I<br>drink ale,<br>But their presence fades away from me and their high spirits fail<br>When I think upon your converse kind by the meadow<br>and the linn,<br>And your form smoother than the silk on the Mountain of O'Flynn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, Paddy, is it pain to you that I'm wasting night and day,<br>And, Paddy, is it grief to you that I'll soon be in the clay?<br>My first love with the winning mouth, my treasure you'll abide,<br>Till the narrow coffin closes me and the grass grows through my side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man who strains to leap the wall, we think him<br>foolish still,<br>When to his hand is the easy ditch to vault across at will;<br>The rowan tree is fine and high, but bitter its berries grow,<br>While blackberries and raspberries are on shrubs that blossom low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell, farewell, forever, to yon town amongst the trees;<br>Farewell, the town that draws me on mornings and on<br>eves.<br>Oh, many's the ugly morass now, and many's the crooked<br>road,<br>That lie henceforth between me and where my heart's<br>bestowed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Mary, Ever Virgin, where will I turn my head!<br>I know not where his house is built, nor where his fields are spread.<br>Ah, kindly was the counsel that my kinsfolk gave to me,<br>'The hundred twists are in his heart, and the thousand tricks has he.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Padraic+Colum">Padraic Colum</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476267" data-title="An Drinaun Donn de Padraic Colum" data-description="A HUNDRED men think I am theirs when with them I drink ale, But their presence fades away from me and their high spirits fail When I think upon your converse kind by the meadow and the linn, And your form smoother than the silk on the Mountain of ..."></div> </div> </div>

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