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CELTIC POETRY. |
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The humming of the noontide bees, The lark's loud carol all day long,
And, borne on evening's salted breeze, The clanking sea-birds' song
Shall round her airy chamber float,
And with the whispering winds and streams,
Attune to Nature's tenderest note The tenor of her dreams.
And oft at tranquil eve's decline,
When full tides lap the Old Green Plain,
The lowing Moynalty's kine Shall round her breathe again.
In sweet remembrance of the days When, duteous in the lowly vale,
Unconscious of my Oscar's gaze, She filled the fragrant pail.
And, duteous, from the running brook, Drew water for the bath ; nor deem'd
A king did on her labor look, And she a fairy seemed.
But when the wintry frosts begin, And in their long-drawn, lofty flight
The wild geese with their airy din Distend the ear of night.
And when the fierce De Danaan ghosts, At midnight from their peak come down.
When all around the enchanted coasts Despairing strangers drown ; |
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