_Here is the well-spring of those sparkling, saving waters-- Here, in the heart of Mary’s Blessed Boy!_ White and chill from the wintry skies, The starlight falls upon ancient Eire: The wind makes moan thro’ the leafless trees Of Devenish Isle, like a soul in fear,-- Deep in the heart of its snowy woods, Fanning a peat-flame, lone and drear.…
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