From ocean to ocean obscuring the light,
Till hamlet and farm upon mountain and meadow
Are blasted and bare with the blight.
O, Erin, to me as my mother,
O, Irishmen, each one a brother,
Whose wrongs are remembered to-day,
Whose tyrants their terrors betray;
O, Erin, the fairest outvying,
Quail not at their fearfullest frown;
Hear this that I breathe to thee dying,