A Golden Treasury of Irish Verse

Front Cover
Lennox Robinson
Macmillan, 1925 - 346 pages
 

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Page 255 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Page 193 - COLD in the earth — and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave ! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave...
Page 115 - The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled.
Page 156 - That woman's days were spent In ignorant good-will, Her nights in argument Until her voice grew shrill. What voice more sweet than hers When, young and beautiful, She rode to harriers?
Page 74 - How sweet the answer Echo makes To music at night, When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away, o'er lawns and lakes, Goes answering light. Yet Love hath echoes truer far, And far more sweet, Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn, or lute, or soft guitar, The songs repeat. 'Tis when the sigh in youth sincere, And only then, — The sigh, that's breathed for one to hear Is by that one, that only dear, Breathed back again I OH!
Page 246 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call. He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all ; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Page 204 - neath the curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came ; And lo ! creation widened in man's view.
Page 191 - THE trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon me Since I first made my count; I saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, And now my heart is sore. All's changed...
Page 40 - Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Page 286 - He died that we might be forgiven, he died to make us good, that we might go at last to heaven, saved by his precious blood.

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