Glendalough - The Valley of Two Lakes

In Wicklow’s hills where the still waters lie,
Glendalough wakes under Ireland’s sky,
Two lakes are shining in the morning grey,
And the old paths lead where the pilgrims pray.

The lower water, the upper deep,
Hold the valley in a quiet sleep,
Through mist and heather, through rain and stone,
The mountains guard a world of their own.

And the valley remembers,
And the waters know,
The prayer in the silence
Where the old winds blow.

Glendalough, Glendalough, valley of two lakes,
Where the morning light through the water wakes,
From Kevin’s prayer to the open sky,
Your ancient song will never die.

Glendalough, Glendalough, under Irish rain,
Where Christ-light rises through stone again,
By lake and mountain, path and tree,
Your quiet heart still calls to me.

Kevin came where the wild birds flew,
Seeking the One whom the heart still knew,
No crown, no comfort, no earthly name,
Only prayer like a hidden flame.

The monks once walked where the grasses grow,
And Scripture lived where the waters flow,
Stone by stone, through the changing years,
The valley kept its holy tears.

Glendalough, Glendalough, valley of two lakes,
Where the morning light through the water wakes,
From Kevin’s prayer to the open sky,
Your ancient song will never die.

Glendalough, Glendalough, under Irish rain,
Where Christ-light rises through stone again,
By lake and mountain, path and tree,
Your quiet heart still calls to me.

The round tower stands where the old stones keep
The names of those who rest and sleep,
Church walls open to the sky,
And crosses weather as years go by.

By Kevin’s Bed above the lake,
The silent cliffs remember wake,
Not every prayer is spoken loud,
Some rise like mist through a mountain cloud.

This is no tale of magic ground,
No shadowed spell, no ancient sound,
But Ireland’s faith in water and stone,
A valley where the soul stands alone.

For every pilgrim, tired and worn,
There is a path through rain to morn,
And every heart that comes in pain
May hear the old prayer rise again.

Now walkers pass where the old paths bend,
Families come where the lake winds send,
Cameras catch the changing light,
But the deeper beauty stays from sight.

Through summer green and winter cold,
The valley speaks in ways untold,
From mountain trail to chapel stone,
Glendalough still leads the spirit home.

Glendalough, Glendalough, valley of two lakes,
Where the morning light through the water wakes,
From Kevin’s prayer to the open sky,
Your ancient song will never die.

Glendalough, Glendalough, under Irish rain,
Where Christ-light rises through stone again,
By lake and mountain, path and tree,
Your quiet heart still calls to me.

Glendalough, Glendalough, hearts awake,
Through every road and field and lake,
From Kevin’s silence to Ireland’s green,
Your hidden light is still unseen.

By the two still lakes, through prayer and flame,
Glendalough remembers its holy name.