Helen Blackwood, Baroness Dufferin and Claneboye (1807–1867) British songwriter, composer, poet and author
Lament of the Irish Emigrant
“I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
That bright May morning long ago
When first you were my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and green,
The lark sang loud and high,
The red was on your lip, Mary,
The love-light in your eye.”
"The Irish Emigrant" (c. 1860), line 1; p. 105.
Songs, Poems, & Verses (1894)
Help us to complete the source, original and additional information
Do you have more details about the quote "I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
That bright May morning long ago
When first you were my b…" by Helen Blackwood, Baroness Dufferin and Claneboye?
Helen Blackwood, Baroness Dufferin and Claneboye8
British songwriter, composer, poet and author 1807–1867Related quotes
“I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side.”
Helen Blackwood, Baroness Dufferin and Claneboye (1807–1867) British songwriter, composer, poet and author
Lament of the Irish Emigrant
“And when I first saw you I first loved you
With a song that I sang to the fire in your eyes”
Hoyt Axton (1938–1999) American country singer
"Lion In The Winter" on Southbound (1975) · Performance with Linda Ronstadt http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ya2dSRcqLBE <br class="br">Context: And when I first saw you I first loved you<br>With a song that I sang to the fire in your eyes<br>But somebody told you that it wouldn't be easy<br>And you carried that lie for the devil to sing Some sail rivers deep and muddy some sail rivers clear and cold<br>But the river that I'm sailin' goes to sea<br>And sometimes I do grow weary sometimes I feel old<br>And sometimes I wonder if you think of me
Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802–1838) English poet and novelist
(5th January 1833) Songs
The London Literary Gazette, 1833-1835
Rabindranath Tagore (1861–1941) Bengali polymath
85 <br class="br"> The Gardener http://www.spiritualbee.com/love-poems-by-tagore/ (1915) <br class="br">Context: Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?<br>I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.<br>Open your doors and look abroad.<br>From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.<br>In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across a hundred years.