 Woe and pain, pain and woe, Are my lot, night and noon, To see your bright face clouded so, Like to the mournful moon. But yet will I rear your throne Again in golden sheen; 'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone, My dark Rosaleenl My own Rosaleen! 'Tis...  Macmillan's Magazine - Side 121875Fuld visning - Om denne bog
 | 1940 - 814 sider
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 | 1946 - 864 sider
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 | Diarmuid Russell - 1946 - 712 sider
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