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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 531 |
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THE ROSE OF THE WORLD
W
HO dreamed that beauty passes like a dream ? For these red lips, with all their mournful pride, Mournful that no new wonder may betide, Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam, And Usna's children died.
We and the laboring world are passing by,: Amid men's souls, that waver and give place, Like the pale waters in their wintry race,
Under the passing stars, foam of the sky, Lives on this lonely face.
Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode : Before you were, or any hearts to beat, Weary and kind one lingered by his seat;
He made the world to be a grassy road Before her wandering feet.
THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER
I
RISE in the dawn, and I kneel and blow, Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow. And I must scrub, and bake, and sweep, Till stars are beginning to blink and peep; But the young lie long and dream in their bed Of the matching of ribbons, the blue and the red,' And their day goes over in idleness, And they sigh in the wind but lift up a tress; While I must work, because I am old And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold. |
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