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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 533 |
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Made when God slept in times of old. There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought; Peering and flying to and fro,
To see men's souls bartered and bought. When they are heard upon the wind,
And when they shake their wings, alas! Thy tender eyes grow all unkind :
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
WHEN YOU ARE OLD
W
HEN you are old and gray and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once : and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
And bending down beside the glowing bars Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
WHERE MY BOOKS GO
A
LL the words that I utter, And all the words that I write, Must spread out their wings untiring, |
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