Across one thousand waves we rode
To the gates of Tír na nÓg
Where foregone days of loss and blame
Were washed upon the shore
Among the ferns we lay at night
And gazed upon the flames
Of a fire which danced and dazed in ways
That never could be tamed
Now though we've taken separate paths
On nights the dark does fill
Can be seen the distant glow
Of a light that flickers still
Not riches from a foreign land
Nor treasures from the deep
Could tempt me part with your fair heart
Of which I seek to keep
So I'll tell the winds to carry you
The tales of all my dreams
And when all seems lost, forget you not
But whisper in your ear
~ 2016
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 4:20 PM UTC
Across one thousand waves we rode
To the gates of Tír na nÓg
Where foregone days of loss and blame
Were washed upon the shore
Among the ferns we lay at night
And gazed upon the flames
Of a fire which danced and dazed in ways
That never could be tamed
Now though we've taken separate paths
On nights the dark does fill
Can be seen the distant glow
Of a light that flickers still
Not riches from a foreign land
Nor treasures from the deep
Could tempt me part with your fair heart
Of which I seek to keep
So I'll tell the winds to carry you
The tales of all my dreams
And when all seems lost, forget you not
But whisper in your ear
~ 2016
Tír na nÓg (pronounced Tier-nah-no-g) is the Celtic Irish underworld where there is no pain or suffering. The spelling of the title is slightly different from how it should appear, as this platform does not accept accent marks from languages other than English.
