The heart in my bosom faints To think of you, my queen, My life of life, my saint of saints, My dark Rosaleen!

My own Rosaleen! To hear your sweet and sad complaints, My life, my love, my saint of saints, My dark Rosaleen!....

My own Rosaleen! To hear your sweet and sad complaints, My life, my love, my saint of saints, My dark Rosaleen!....

At home in your emerald bowers, From morning's dawn till e'en, You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers, My dark Rosaleen!

My fond Rosaleen!

You'll think of me thro' daylight hours, My virgin flower, my flower of flowers, My dark Rosaleen!

And one beamy smile from you Would float like light between My toils and me, my own, my true, My dark Rosaleen!

My fond Rosaleen! Would give me life and soul anew, A second life, a soul anew, My dark Rosaleen! Wonder, child-like, wearied with the length of the verses, and suddenly the white face of Silencieux caught her eye.

My fond Rosaleen! Would give me life and soul anew, A second life, a soul anew, My dark Rosaleen! Wonder, child-like, wearied with the length of the verses, and suddenly the white face of Silencieux caught her eye.

JOHN R. Rosaleen.

Eric Hatch (A); 15Apr58; R213032. HAUCK, LOUISE PLATT. Rosaleen.

JOHN R. Rosaleen.

Eric Hatch (A); 15Apr58; R213032. HAUCK, LOUISE PLATT. Rosaleen.

Modern critics like to interpret the "Dark Rosaleen" poem as an expression of Red Hugh's devotion to Ireland, but I think that Rose, O'Doherty's daughter, wife of the peerless Owen Roe, deserves recognition as she whose "Holy delicate white hands should girdle him with steel.

True daughter of Ulster was Owen's wife, so let us henceforth acknowledge her as the Roisin dubh, "dark Rosaleen", of the sublimest of all patriot songs.