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3i6 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Cean duv deelish, I cry to thee Beyond the world, beneath the sea,
Thou being dead. Where hast thou hidden from the beat Of crushing hoofs, and tearing feet
Thy dear black head ?
Cean duv deelish, 'tis hard to pray With breaking heart from day to day,
And no reply; When the passionate challenge of sky is cast In the teeth of the sea and an angry blast
Goes by.
God bless the woman, whoever she be, From the tossing waves will recover thee
And lashing wind. Who will take thee out of the wind and storm, Dry thy wet face on her bosom warm
And lips so kind ?
I not to know ! It is hard to pray,
But I shall for this woman from day to day.
" Comfort my dead, The sport of the winds and the play of the sea." I loved thee too well for this thing to be,
O dear black head ! |
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THE ONE FORGOTTEN
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SPIRIT speeding down on All Souls Eve' From the wide gates of that mysterious shore Where sleep the dead, sung softly and yet sweet. " So gay a wind was never heard before," |
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