"Gloom is upon thy silent hearth
O silent house! ....
Sorrow is in the breezy sound
Of thy tall beeches whisp'ring round;
The shadow of long mournful hours
Hangs dim upon thy early flowers,
Even in thy sunshine seems to brood
Something more deep than Solitude."
“Come to the woods in whose mossy dells
A light all made for the poet dwells;
There is light, there is youth, there is tameless mirth
Where the streams and the lilies they wear have birth.
Joyous and free shall your wanderings be
As the flight of birds o'er the glittering sea.
Come forth, Oye children of gladness, come,
Where the violets lie may be now your home
Away from the chamber and the sullen hearth
The young winds are dancing in breezy mirth,
Their light stems thrill to the wild wood strains.
Bring the lyre and the wreath and the joyous lay,
Come forth to the sunshine."
The old manorial residence of Lifford Grange was
one of those habitations which have remained in the