Classic Poem

Oh, ask me no more for the cause of my sadness,
Nor seek to discover the grief that I feel,
Enough that this breast hath no room now for gladness,
Enough that its wounds thou art pow'rless to heal!

As the bright sun at noonday by clouds may be hidden
This heart is oppress'd by the waters of grief,
Oh, let not its weakness too rashly be chidden!
Oh, check not the tear that alone brings relief!

There is never in Erin a sea-breeze that ruffles,
And never a cloud that o'ershadows her skies,
But her poet in anguish convulsively snuffles
While floods of emotion gush forth from his eyes!