Sprays of Shamrock Part 3

Well can I recall that eve at Sligo, And the vacant arches of the abbey Framing the ethereal rose of sunset!

Round about me silence and gray shadow Peopled with the wraiths of time departed,-- Monks with back-thrown cowls who pace the cloisters Now deep-mounded, crumbled, clad with ivy.

No more from the tower their chimes of silver Will the bells fling o'er the town and river, O'er the Garavogue soft-gliding seaward!

Nevermore--save in deep dreams at midnight.

Death, the immemorial lord of mortals, He is abbot in the aisles of Sligo Till the spheres proclaim the resurrection!

CARROWMORE

The gray winds call o'er Carrowmore, Call in the white of the dawn, And the gra.s.ses sigh o'er Carrowmore When the purple night draws on.

The cromlechs stand on Carrowmore As they 've stood since who can say; And the thin wraiths flit o'er Carrowmore Between the dusk and the day.

There 's never a hush on Carrowmore Come autumn or come spring, For, oh, the tongues of Carrowmore, They are fain of whispering!

And over and over Carrowmore 'T will be ever thus, meseems,-- Like the winnow of wings o'er Carrowmore The surge of the tide of dreams!

ON CARAGH LAKE

I

On Caragh lake the evening light Is violet and amethyst, And the dark shadows of the pines In silence keep their twilight tryst.

And high beyond the purple groves, The sweeping moors, the climbing fells, The rugged Kerry mountains stand Like grim eternal sentinels.

In dying whispers on the sh.o.r.e The ripples lap, the ripples break, And there is peace beyond all words As night descends on Caragh lake!

II

In unexpected grooves of flight A blundering bat swoops swiftly by; From out a coppice drifts a bird's Last plaintive melody.

The lake is like a mirror dim With no disturbing breath to mar, While o'er a lonely fell there burns One white vespernal star.

RAHINANE

Wrapt in mist and washed with rain Is the hill of Rahinane; Compa.s.sed by the hosts of sleep Is its keep.

Only shadows come and go; Only wraiths flit to and fro; And the bat, grotesque and blind, And the wind.

Just a shard of shattered hope On a barren Kerry slope; Just a ruin in the rain, Rahinane!

THE WIND OF MOURNE

The wind of Mourne comes over the hill, Over the hill with a trill of song, And the word of the wind sets my heart athrill,-- "Though life is brief, yet love is long!"

I seek my sweet where the roses stir, And the stars overhead are a marching throng, And this is the tale that I tell to her,-- "Though life is brief, yet love is long!"

MAN AND MAID

"I know a lad in Leitrim, I know a lad," said she, "I know a lad in Leitrim would give his heart for me!"

"I know a maid in Mayo, I know a maid," said he, "I know a maid in Mayo would give her heart to me!"

"Go to your maid in Mayo, go to your maid," cried she; "Go to your maid in Mayo, for all--for all of me!"

"Go to your lad in Leitrim, go to your lad," cried he, "Go to your lad in Leitrim, for all--for all of me!"

"And yet--and yet--" she faltered, "and yet--and yet," blushed she, "That lad may stay in Leitrim! It 's here I 'd rather be!"

"And yet--and yet--" he echoed, "and yet--and yet--" smiled he, "That maid may stay in Mayo. It 's there I 'd have her be!"

'T is merry down in Kerry beside the laughing sea; 'T is merry down in Kerry when man and maid agree!

THE HUNTER

I crept up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar; Mist swooped on the heather, mist swept down the sh.o.r.e, And all of the tongues of the mountain, they murmured behind and before.

Then out of a cleft rose a terrible cry, And a form like a demon went ravening by, And I fell in a quake on the moss, and I thought I should die.

I 'm no hunting man now, and I sit by the fire, And whenever the wind keens around by the byre, I shiver and rock like a reed that has root in the mire.

And if you 're a young man, and sound to the core, And a sweet maid is waiting you home at the door, Beware how you creep up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar!