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IRISH MELODIES. |
101 |
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And if to that phantom you'll be kind, So fondly around you he'll hover,
You'll hardly, my dear, any difference find 'Twixt him and a true living lover.
Down at your feet, in the pale moonlight, He '11 kneel, with a warmth of devotion —
An ardour, of which such an innocent sprite You'd scarcely believe had a notion.
What other thoughts and events may arise, As in destiny's book I've not seen them,
Must only be left to the stars and your eyes To settle, ere morning, between them. |
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OH, YE DEAD!
Oh, ye Dead! oh, ye Dead! whom we know by the light
you give From your cold gleaming eyes, though you move like men who live,
Why leave you thus your graves,
In far off fields and waves, Where the worm and the sea-bird only know your bed j
To haunt this spot, where all
Those eyes that wept your fall, And the hearts that wail'd you, like your own, lie dead ?
H 3 |
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