MAIRE, MY GIRL Over the dim blue hills Strays a wild river, Over the dim blue hills Rests my heart ever. Dearer and brighter than Jewels and pearl, Dwells she in beauty there, Maire, my girl. Down upon Claris heath Shines the soft berry, On the brown harvest tree Droops the red cherry, Sweeter thy honey lips, Softer the curl Straying adown thy cheeks, Maire, my girl. 'Twas on an April eve That I first met her; Many an eve shall pass Ere I forget her. Since, my young heart has been Wrapped in a whirl, Thinking and dreaming of Maire, my girl. She is too kind and fond Ever to grieve me, She had too pure a heart E'er to deceive me. Were I Tyrconnell's chief or Desmond's earl, Life would be dark, wanting Maire, my girl! Over the dim blue hills Strays a wild river, Over the dim blue hills Rests my heart ever. Dearer and brighter than Jewels or pearl, Dwells she in beauty there, Maire, my girl. -- John Keegan Casey (1846-1870)