Now all away to Tir na n'Og are many roads that run,
But he has ta'en the longest lane, the King of Ireland's son.
There's roads of hate, and roads of love, and many a middle way,
And castles keep the valleys deep where happy lovers stray —
Where Aongus goes there's many a rose burns red mid shadows dun,
No rose there is will draw his kiss, the King of Ireland's son.
And yonder where the sun is high Love laughs amid the hay,
But smile and sigh have passed him by, and never make delay.
And here (and O! the sun is low!) they're glad for harvest won,
But naught he cares for wheat or tares, the King of Ireland's son!
And you have flung love's apple by, and I'm. to pluck it yet:
But what are fruits of gramarye with druid dews beset?
Oh, what are magic fruits to him who meets the Lianan sidhe?
Or hears athwart the distance dim Fionn's horn blow drowsily?
The star is yours to win or lose, and me the dusk has won,
He follows after shadows, the King of Ireland's son.
We are busy working to bring Nora Hopper Chesson's "The King of Ireland's Son" to life through our unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you soon.
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This creative journey takes time—each composition represents hours of dedicated work to create something that deepens our connection to Nora Hopper Chesson's words in meaningful ways.
While you wait for our complete interpretation, we invite you to explore other musical arrangements in our gallery or learn more about Nora Hopper Chesson's life and contributions to literature.
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