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278 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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O children of Time—0 Nights and Days, That gather and wonder and stand at gaze, And wheeling stars in your lonely ways,
Good-bye—good-bye—good-bye !
The music calls and the gates unclose, Onward arid onward the wild way goes —
Good-bye ! We die in the bliss of a great new birth, O fading phantoms of pain and mirth, O fading loves of the old green earth —
Good-bye—good-bye—good-bye ! |
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THE. DEAD AT CLONMACNOIS
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N a quiet watered land, a land of roses, Stands Saint Kieran's city fair : And the warriors of Erin in their famous generations Slumber there.
There beneath the dewy hillside sleep the noblest
Of the clan of Conn, Each below his stone with name in branching Ogham
And the sacred knot thereon.
There they laid to rest the seven Kings of Tara,
There the sons of Cairbre sleep — Battle-banners of the Gael, that in Kieran's plain of crosses
Now their final hosting keep. |
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