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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 329 |
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I am aged now and gray, Few of men I meet this day But I hurled the javelin bold Of a morning, icy cold.
Thanks unto the King of Heaven, And the Virgin's Son be given: Many men have I made still, Who this night are very chill. |
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THE CALLING
O
SIGH of the Sea, O soft lone-wandering sound, Why callest thou me, with voice of all waters profound, With sob and with smile, with lingering pain and delight, With mornings of blue, with flash of thy billows at night ?
The shell from the shore, though borne far away from
thy side, Recalls evermore the flowing and fall of thy tide, And so, through my heart thy murmurs gather and
grow— Thy tides, as of old, awake in its darkness, and flow.
O Sigh of the Sea, from luminous isles far away, Why callest thou me to sail the impassable way ? Why callest thou me to share the unrest of thy soul— Desires that avail not, yearnings from pole unto pole? |
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