Deep in the heart of me, Nothing but You! See through the art of me -- Deep in the heart of me Find the best part of me, Changeless and true. Deep in the heart of me, Nothing but You! Choice. [Angela Morgan] I'd rather have the thought of you To hold against my heart, My spirit to be taught of you With west winds blowing, Than all the warm caresses Of another love's bestowing, Or all the glories of the world In which you had no part. I'd rather have the theme of you To thread my nights and days, I'd rather have the dream of you With faint stars glowing, I'd rather have the want of you, The rich, elusive taunt of you Forever and forever and forever unconfessed Than claim the alien comfort Of any other's breast. O lover! O my lover, That this should come to me! I'd rather have the hope for you, Ah, Love, I'd rather grope for you Within the great abyss Than claim another's kiss -- Alone I'd rather go my way Throughout eternity. Song. [Margaret Steele Anderson] The bride, she wears a white, white rose -- the plucking it was mine; The poet wears a laurel wreath -- and I the laurel twine; And oh, the child, your little child, that's clinging close to you, It laughs to wear my violets -- they are so sweet and blue! And I, I have a wreath to wear -- ah, never rue nor thorn! I sometimes think that bitter wreath could be more sweetly worn! For mine is made of ghostly bloom, of what I can't forget -- The fallen leaves of other crowns -- rose, laurel, violet! Romance. [Scudder Middleton] Why should we argue with the falling dust Or tremble in the traffic of the days? Our hearts are music-makers in the clouds, Our feet are running on the heavenly ways. We'll go and find the honey of romance Within the hollow of the sacred tree. There is a spirit in the eastern sky, Calling along the dawn to you and me. She'll lead us to the forest where she hides The yellow wine that keeps the angels young -- We are the chosen lovers of the earth For whom alone the golden comb was hung. Good-Bye. [Norreys Jephson O'Conor] Good-bye to tree and tower, To meadow, stream, and hill, Beneath the white clouds marshalled close At the wind's will. Good-bye to the gay garden, With prim geraniums pied, And spreading yew trees, old, unchanging Tho' men have died. Good-bye to the New Castle, With granite walls and grey, And rooms where faded greatness still Lingers to-day. To every friend in Mallow, When I am gone afar, These words of ancient Celtic hope, "Peace after war." I would return to Erin When all these wars are by, Live long among her hills before My last good-bye. Beyond Rathkelly. [Francis Carlin] As I went over the Far Hill, Just beyond Rathkelly, -- Och, to be on the Far Hill O'er Newtonstewart Town! As I went over the Far Hill With Marget's daughter Nellie, The night was up and the moon was out, And a star was falling down.