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3i8 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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And said the graybeard, reaching for his glass, " How sad a wind blows on the window-pane 1"
And then from dreaming the long dreams of age
He woke, remembering, and let fall a tear: " Alas ! I have forgot—and have you gone ?—
I set no chair to welcome you, my dear." And said the maidens, laughing in their play :
"How he goes groaning, wrinkle-faced and hoar. He is so old, and angry with his age —
Hush ! hear the banshee sobbing past the door." |
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THE WIND ON THE HILLS
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O not to the hills of Erin When the night winds are about; Put up your bar and shutter, And so keep the danger out.
For the good-folk whirl within it, And they pull you by the hand, And they push you on the shoulder, » Till you move to their command.
And lo ! you have forgotten What you have known of tears,
And you will not remember
That the world goes full of years :
A year there is a lifetime,
And a second but a day ; And an older world will meet you
Each morn you come away. |
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