| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
IRISH MELODIES. |
137 |
||
|
" Should some alien, unworthy such weapon to wield,
" Dare to touch thee, my own gallant sword, " Then rest in thy sheath, like a talisman seal'd,
" Or return to the grave of thy chainless lord. " But, if grasp'd by a hand that hath learn'd the proud use
" Of a falchion like thee on the battle-plain, — " Then, at Liberty's summons, like lightning let loose,
" Leap forth from thy dark sheath again!" |
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
OH, COULD WE DO WITH THIS WORLD OF OURS.
Oh, could we do with this world of ours As thou dost with thy garden bowers, Reject the weeds and keep the flowers,
What a heaven on earth we'd make it! So bright a dwelling should be our own, So warranted free from sigh or frown, That angels soon would be coming down,
By the week or month to take it.
Like those gay flies that wing thro' air, And in themselves a lustre bear, A stock of light, still ready there,
Whenever they wish to use it; So in this world I'd make for thee, Our hearts should all like fire-flies be, And the flash of wit or poesy
Break forth whenever we choose it. |
|||