Chapter 2

At the grey dawn, amongst the felling leaves, A little bird outside my window swung, High on a topmost branch he trilled his song, And "Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!" ever sung.

Take me, I cried, back to my island home; Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings; For my lone spirit wide his pinions spread, And home and home and home he ever sings.

We lingered over Ulster stern and wild. I called: "Arise! doth none remember me?" One turned in the darkness murmuring, "How loud upon the breakers sobs the sea!"

We rested over Connaught--whispering said: "Awake, awake, and welcome! I am here." One woke and shivered at the morning grey; "The trees, I never heard them sigh so drear."

We flew low over Munster. Long I wept: "You used to love me, love me once again!" They spoke from out the shadows wondering; "You'd think of tears, so bitter falls the rain."

Long over Leinster lingered we. "Good-bye! My best beloved, good-bye for evermore." Sleepless they tossed and whispered to the dawn; "So sad a wind was never heard before."

Was it a dream I dreamt? For yet there swings In the grey morn a bird upon the bough, And "Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!" ever sings. Oh! fair the breaking day in Ireland now.

ALL SOULS' EVE

I cried all night to you, I called till day was here; Perhaps you could not come, Or were too tired, dear.

Your chair I set by mine, I made the dim hearth glow, I whispered, "When he comes I shall not let him go."

I closed the shutters tight, I feared the dawn of day, I stopped the busy clock That timed your hours away.

Loud howled my neighbour's dog, O glad was I to hear. The dead are going by, Now you will come, my dear,

To take the chair by mine-- Until the cock would crow-- O, if it be you came And could not let me know,

For once a shadow passed Behind me in the room, I thought your loving eyes Would meet mine in the gloom.

And once I thought I heard A footstep by my chair, I raised my eager hands, But no sweet ghost was there.

We were too wide apart-- You in your spirit land-- I knew not when you came, I could not understand.

Your eyes perhaps met mine, Reproached me through the gloom, Alas, for me alone The empty, empty room!

The dead were passing home, The cock crew loud and clear, Mavourneen, if you came, I knew not you were here.

AN IMPERFECT REVOLUTION

They crowded weeping from the teacher's house, Crying aloud their fear at what he taught, Old men and young men, wives and maids unwed, And children screaming in the crowds unsought: Some to their temples with accustomed feet Bent--as the oxen go beneath the rod, To fling themselves before some pictured saint, "Alas! God help us if there is no God."

Some to the bed-side of their dying kind To clasp with arms afraid to loose their hold; Some to a church-yard falling on a grave To kiss the carven name with lips as cold. Some watched from break of day into the night. The flash of birds, the bloom of flower and tree, The whirling worlds that glimmer in the dark, All said: "God help us if no God there be."

Some hid in caves and chattered mad with fear At the uprising of the patient poor. "He suffers with you," no more could they say, Thus lock with keys of Heaven their bonds secure, Some called their dead, and then remembering fell Abusing death and cursed the wormy grave, And wept for their long hoped-for Paradise, "God help us if there be no God to save!"

And others sought for right and found it not, And, seeking duty, found that it was dead, Blamed their long blameless lives and vowed no more To sacrifice, for "Might is right" they said. And pleasure, leaping in the streets with sin, Caroused through many days till wearily She tired and met with death in bitter pain. "Alas! God help us if no God we gain."

A few rose up and speaking, "O be strong," Were answered, "There's no reason for your right," But many crept in thankfulness for rest Into the river's darkness out of sight; And others with their limbs deformed, or sore Seared flesh, shrieked out their patient years of pain. Crying to Death for their lost plains of Heaven. "Alas! God help us if no God we gain."

LOVE

Deep in the moving depths Of yellow wine, I swore I'd drown your face, O love of mine; All clad in yellow hue, So fair to see, You crouched within my cup And laughed at me.

Twice o'er a learned page I turned and tossed, For would I not forget The love I lost. All stern and robed in gloom, You read it too, I could not see the words-- Saw only you.

Within the hungry chase I thought to kill You, love, who haunted thus Without my will, But in the gentle gaze Of fawn and deer, Your eyes disarmed my hand, And shook my spear.

Beneath a maid's dark lash I swore you'd drown, Sink in the laughing blue-- Give in, go down: But no! you bathed there Right joyously, And from her liquid eyes You laughed at me.

WISHES

I wish we could live as the flowers live, To breathe and to bloom in the summer and sun; To slumber and sway in the heart of the night, And to die when our glory had done.

I wish we could love as the bees love, To rest or to roam without sorrow or sigh; With laughter, when, after the wooer had won, Love flew with a whispered good-bye.

I wish we could die as the birds die, To fly and to fall when our beauty was best: No trammels of time on the years of our face; And to leave but an empty nest.

CUPID SLAIN

I come from a burial; Hush! let me be: I have put away my love, Fair exceedingly.

Ah! the little gold curls Soft about his face; Now my heart is sorrowful For his sleeping-place.

But he would pursue me, Never let me rest; Till I turned and slew him, Knowing it were best.

Laid his bow beside him, Shovelled in the clay; To-morrow I'll forget him; Let me weep to-day.

WHAT WILL YOU GIVE?

What will you give me, if I will wed? "A golden gown To come sweetly down, And deck you from foot to head."

How will you keep me, if I am cold? "By a heart so warm, The bravest storm Dare not force through my strong hands' hold."

How will you please me, if I should thirst? "Why by the rape Of the purple grape, Which the summer and sun have nursed."

If I should hunger what may I eat? "For you the skies The falcon flies, And the hounds on the stag are fleet."

How can you comfort when fair youth dies, When the spirit's fain For a purer gain, Than the satisfied flesh supplies?

"But this I promise, when starved and cold A lonely soul Finds for its goal A six-foot bed and churchyard mould."

A MEADOW TRAGEDY

Here's a meadow full of sunshine Ripe grasses lush and high; There's a reaper on the roadway, And a lark hangs in the sky.

There's a nest of love enclosing Three little beaks that cry; The reapers in the meadow And a lark hangs in the sky.

Here's a mead all full of summer, And tragedy goes by With a knife amongst the grasses, And a song up in the sky.

AN ECLIPSE

Let there be an end And all be done; Pass over, fair eclipse, That hides the sun.

Dear face that shades the light And shadows me, Begone, and give me peace, And set me free.

THE SCALLOP SHELL

A scallop shell, loosed by the lifting tide, Had left a friendly shore, the seas to brave; Its lips of pink and snowy hollow shone Pure in the sun, a pearl upon the wave.

It gleamed and passed--you burdened it with love, With sweet long futures, new and dreamy days: And named for me--because I held your hopes. I bid you hush--not meriting your praise.

I pointed, where your vessel came to shore, Wrecked where the tiny breakers rose and fell; And bid your voyagers not put to sea So fail a craft as this poor scallop shell.

WITH A ROSE

In the heart of a rose Lies the heart of a maid; If you be not afraid You will wear it. Who knows?

In the pink of its bloom, Lay your lips to her cheek; Since a rose cannot speak, And you gain the perfume.

If the dews on the leaf Are the tears from her eyes; If she withers and dies, Why, you have the belief,

That a rose cannot speak, Though the heart of a maid In its bosom must fade, And with fading must break.

FOR EVER

He heard it first upon the lips of love, And loved it for love's sake; A faithful word, that knows nor time nor change, Nor lone heart-break.

It sung across his heart-strings like a breath Of Heaven's faithfulness, that whispered "Never To part, to lose, to linger from your gaze." She said, "I love for ever."

He heard it then upon the lips of death, Of things that fade and die; A word of sorrow never to be stilled, An ever echoing sigh.

And loneliness within his soul did dwell, And struck upon his heart-strings, crying "Never To meet, to have, to hold, to see again." She said, "Good-bye for ever."

THE BLOW RETURNED

I struck you once, I do remember well. Hard on the track of passion sorrow sped, And swift repentance, weeping for the blow; I struck you once--and now you're lying dead!

Now you are gone the blow no longer sleeps In your forgiveness hushed through all the years; But like a phantom haunts me through the dark, To cry "You gave your own beloved tears."

Stript now of all excuses, stern and stark, With all your small transgressings dimmed or fled, The ghost returns the blow upon my heart I struck you once--and now you're lying dead.

VALE

Good-bye, sweet friend, good-bye, And all the world must be Between my friend and me; And nothing is, dear heart, But hands that meet to part; Good-bye, sweet friend, good-bye.

Good-bye, sweet love, good-bye, And one long grave must be Between my love and me; What comfort there, dear heart, For hands that meet to part? Good-bye, sweet love, good-bye.

THE SKELETON IN THE CUPBOARD

Just this one day in all the year Let all be one, let all be dear; Wife, husband, child in fond embrace, And thrust the phantom from its place. No bitter words, no frowning brow, Disturb the Christmas festal, now The skeleton's behind the door.

Nor let the child, with looks askance, Find out its sad inheritance From souls that held no happiness, Of home, where love is seldom guest; But in his coming years retain This one sweet night that had no pain; The skeleton's behind the door.

In vain you raise the wassail bowl, And pledge your passion, soul to soul. You hear the sweet bells ring in rhyme, You wreath the room for Christmas time In vain. The solemn silence falls, The death watch ticks within the walls; The skeleton taps on the door.

Then let him back into his place, Let us sit out the old disgrace; Nor seek the phantom now to lay, That haunted us through every day; For plainer is the ghost; useless Is this pretence of happiness; The skeleton taps on the door.

YOU WILL NOT COME AGAIN

The green has come to the leafless tree, The earth brings forth its grain; The flower has come for the honey bee: You will not come again.

The birds have come to the empty nest, All winter full of rain; So music has come where the silence was: You will not come again.

Love will come for the weak lambs' cry; Alas for my heart's dull pain! In the cycle of change I alone am lone: You will not come again.

THE WRECKAGE

Love lit a beacon in thine eyes, And I out in the storm, And lo! the night had taken wings; I dream me safe and warm.

Love lit a beacon in thine eyes, A wreckers' light for me; My heart is broken on the rocks; I perish in the sea.

I AM THE WORLD

I am the song, that rests upon the cloud; I am the sun: I am the dawn, the day, the hiding shroud, When dusk is done.

I am the changing colours of the tree; The flower uncurled: I am the melancholy of the sea; I am the world.

The other souls that, passing in their place, Each in their groove; Out-stretching hands that chain me and embrace, Speak and reprove.

"O atom of that law, by which the earth Is poised and whirled; Behold! you hurrying with the crowd assert You are the world."

Am I not one with all the things that be Warm in the sun? All that my ears can hear, or eyes can see, Till all be done.

Of song and shine, of changing leaf apart, Of bud uncurled: With all the senses pulsing at my heart, I am the world.

One day the song that drifts upon the wind, I shall not hear; Nor shall the rosy shoots to eyes grown blind Again appear.

Deaf, in the dark, I shall arise and throw From off my soul, The withered world with all its joy and woe, That was my goal.

I shall arise, and like a shooting star Slip from my place; So lingering see the old world from afar Revolve in space.

And know more things than all the wise may know Till all be done; Till One shall come who, breathing on the stars, Blows out the sun.

A NEW YEAR

Behold! a new white world! The falling snow Has cloaked the last old year And bid him go.

To-morrow! cries the oak-tree To his heart, My sealed buds shall fling Their leaves apart.

To-morrow! pipes the robin, And again How sweet the nest that long Was full of rain.

To-morrow! bleats the sheep, And one by one My little lambs shall frolic 'Neath the sun.

For us, too, let some fair To-morrow be, O Thou who weavest threads Of Destiny!

Thou wast a babe on that Far Christmas Day, Let us as children follow In Thy way.

So that our hearts grown cold 'Neath time and pain, With young sweet faith may blossom Green again.

That empty promises Of passing years Spring into life, and not Repenting tears.

So that our deeds upon The earth may go, As innocent as lambs, And pure as snow.

THE KINE OF MY FATHER

The kine of my rather, they are straying from my keeping; The young goat's at mischief, but little can I do: For all through the night did I hear the Banshee keening; O youth of my loving, and is it well with you?

All through the night sat my mother with my sorrow; "Whisht, it is the wind, O one childeen of my heart!" My hair with the wind, and my two hands clasped in anguish; Black head of my darling! too long are we apart.

Were your grave at my feet, I would think it half a blessing; I could herd then the cattle, and drive the goats away; Many a Paternoster I would say for your safe keeping; I could sleep above your heart, until the dawn of day.

I see you on the prairie, hot with thirst and faint with hunger; The head that I love lying low upon the sand. The vultures shriek impatient, and the coyote dogs are howling, Till the blood is pulsing cold within your clenching hand.

I see you on the waters, so white, so still forlorn, Your dear eyes unclosing beneath a foreign rain: A plaything of the winds, you turn and drift unceasing, No grave for your resting; O mine the bitter pain!

All through the night did I hear the Banshee keening: Somewhere you are dying, and nothing can I do; My hair with the wind, and my two hands clasped in anguish; Bitter is your trouble--and I am far from you.

SANCTUARY

Neighbour! for pity a hound cries on your steps With pleading eyes, with sore and weary feet. Neighbour! your pity a poor beast doth implore; Hunger and cold are busy in the street. Then, neighbour! pause; 'tis no good work you do. "Off from my door! I have no place for you."

Neighbour, your mercy! A heart of love is here, Within this weary body--love is rare, And seldom comes to cry before our door. Then open wide, and take your little share. Love pleads to be your servant, leal and true. "Off from my step! I have no place for you."

From step to step abused, from door to door, Whipped by the wind, and beaten by the rain, With hunger at his throat, he passes on; Yet one who follows shares the creature's pain. One follows. Neighbour, stop! unless you rue. "Off from my step! I have no place for you."

The gentle Christ had heard His crying hound, And left His throne to track the weary feet. He follows, though unseen, with bleeding heart, Refused from door to door, from street to street. Yes, one who follows had refusal too. "Off from my door! I have no place for you."

AN EASTERN GOD

I saw an Eastern God to-day; My comrades laughed; lest I betray My secret thoughts, I mocked him too. His many hands (he had no few, This God of gifts and charity), The marble race, that smiled on me, I mocked, and said, "O God unthroned, Lone exile from the faith you owned, No priest to bring you sacrifice, No censer with its breath of spice, No land to mourn your funeral pyre. O King, whose subjects felt your fire, Now dead, now stone, without a slave, Unfeared, unloved, you have no grave. Poor God, who cannot understand, And what of your fair Eastern land, What dark brows brushed your dusky feet, What warm hearts on your marble beat, With many a prayer unanswered?" My comrades laughed and passed. I said, "If in those lands you wander still, In spirit, God, and work your will," I whispered in the marble ear So low--because the walls might hear-- The painted lips they smiled at me-- "O guard my love, where'er he be."

A FRIEND IN NEED

Who has room for a friend Who has money to spend, And a goblet of gold For your fingers to hold, At the wave of whose hand Leap the salmon to land, Drop the birds of the air, Fall the stag and the hare. Who has room for a friend Who has money to lend? We have room for a friend!

Who has room for a friend Who has nothing to lend, When the goblet of gold Is as far from his hold As the fleet-footed hare, Or the birds of the air. Who has room for a friend Who has nothing to spend? We know not such a friend.

IN A WOOD

Hush, 'tis thy voice! No, but a bird upon the bough Romancing to its mate, but where art thou To bid my heart rejoice?

'Tis thy hand, speak! No, but the branches striking in the wind Let loose a withered leaf that falls behind Blown to my cheek.

Hush, thy footfall! No, 'tis a streamlet hidden in the fern, Thus from dawn to dark I wait, I learn Sorrow is all.

A VAGRANT HEART

O to be a woman! to be left to pique and pine, When the winds are out and calling to this vagrant heart of mine. Whisht! it whistles at the windows, and how can I be still? There! the last leaves of the beech-tree go dancing down the hill. All the boats at anchor they are plunging to be free-- O to be a sailor, and away across the sea! When the sky is black with thunder, and the sea is white with foam, The gray-gulls whirl up shrieking and seek their rocky home, Low his boat is lying leeward, how she runs upon the gale, As she rises with the billows, nor shakes her dripping sail. There is danger on the waters--there is joy where dangers be-- Alas! to be a woman and the nomad's heart in me.

Ochone! to be a woman, only sighing on the shore-- With a soul that finds a passion for each long breaker's roar, With a heart that beats as restless as all the winds that blow-- Thrust a cloth between her fingers, and tell her she must sew; Must join in empty chatter, and calculate with straws-- For the weighing of our neighbour--for the sake of social laws. O chatter, chatter, chatter, when to speak is misery, When silence lies around your heart--and night is on the sea. So tired of little fashions that are root of all our strife, Of all the petty passions that upset the calm of life. The law of God upon the land shines steady for all time; The laws confused that man has made, have reason not nor rhyme.

O bird that fights the heavens, and is blown beyond the shore, Would you leave your flight and danger for a cage to fight no more? No more the cold of winter, or the hunger of the snow, Nor the winds that blow you backward from the path you wish to go? Would you leave your world of passion for a home that knows no riot? Would I change my vagrant longings for a heart more full of quiet? No!--for all its dangers, there is joy in danger too: On, bird, and fight your tempests, and this nomad heart with you!

The seas that shake and thunder will close our mouths one day, The storms that shriek and whistle will blow our breaths away. The dust that flies and whitens will mark not where we trod. What matters then our judging? we are face to face with God.

WHEN YOU ARE ON THE SEA

How can I laugh or dance as others do, Or ply my rock or reel? My heart will still return to dreams of you Beside my spinning-wheel.

My little dog he cried out in the dark, He would not whisht for me: I took him to my side--why did he bark When you were on the sea?

I fear the red cock--if he crow to-night-- I keep him close and warm, 'Twere ill with me, if he should wake in fright And you out in the storm.

I dare not smile for fear my laugh would ring Across your dying ears; O, if you, drifting, drowned, should hear me sing And think I had not tears.

I never thought the sea could wake such waves, Nor that such winds could be; I never wept when other eyes grew blind For some one on the sea.

But now I fear and pray all things for you, How many dangers be! I set my wheel aside, what can I do When you are on the sea?

MY NEIGHBOUR'S GARDEN

Why in my neighbour's garden Are the flowers more sweet than mine? I had never such bloom of roses, Such yellow and pink woodbine.

Why in my neighbour's garden Are the fruits all red and gold, While here the grapes are bitter That hang for my fingers' hold?

Why in my neighbour's garden Do the birds all fly to sing? Over the fence between us One would think 'twas always spring.

I thought my own wide garden Once more sweet and fair than all, Till I saw the gold and crimson Just over my neighbour's wall.

But now I want his thrushes, And now I want his vine, If I cannot have his cherries That grow more red than mine.

The serpent 'neath his apples Will tempt me to my fall, And then--I'll steal my neighbour's fruit Across the garden wall.

AN IRISH BLACKBIRD

This is my brave singer, With his beak of gold; Now my heart's a captive In his song's sweet hold.

O, the lark's a rover, Seeking fields above: But my serenader Hath a human love.

"Hark!" he says, "in winter Nests are full of snow, But a truce to wailing Summer breezes blow."

"Hush!" he sings, "with night-time Phantoms cease to be, Join your serenader Piping on his tree."

O, my little lover, Warble in the blue; Wingless must I envy Skies so wide for you.

DEATH OF GORMLAITH