The Fairy Changeling and Other Poems Part 4

Was it a dream I dreamt? For yet there swings In the grey morn a bird upon the bough, And "Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!" ever sings.

Oh! fair the breaking day in Ireland now.

ALL SOULS' EVE

I cried all night to you, I called till day was here; Perhaps you could not come, Or were too tired, dear.

Your chair I set by mine, I made the dim hearth glow, I whispered, "When he comes I shall not let him go."

I closed the shutters tight, I feared the dawn of day, I stopped the busy clock That timed your hours away.

Loud howled my neighbour's dog, O glad was I to hear.

The dead are going by, Now you will come, my dear,

To take the chair by mine- Until the c.o.c.k would crow- O, if it be you came And could not let me know,

For once a shadow pa.s.sed Behind me in the room, I thought your loving eyes Would meet mine in the gloom.

And once I thought I heard A footstep by my chair, I raised my eager hands, But no sweet ghost was there.

We were too wide apart- You in your spirit land- I knew not when you came, I could not understand.

Your eyes perhaps met mine, Reproached me through the gloom, Alas, for me alone The empty, empty room!

The dead were pa.s.sing home, The c.o.c.k crew loud and clear, Mavourneen, if you came, I knew not you were here.

AN IMPERFECT REVOLUTION

They crowded weeping from the teacher's house, Crying aloud their fear at what he taught, Old men and young men, wives and maids unwed, And children screaming in the crowds unsought: Some to their temples with accustomed feet Bent-as the oxen go beneath the rod, To fling themselves before some pictured saint, "Alas! G.o.d help us if there is no G.o.d."

Some to the bed-side of their dying kind To clasp with arms afraid to loose their hold; Some to a church-yard falling on a grave To kiss the carven name with lips as cold.

Some watched from break of day into the night.

The flash of birds, the bloom of flower and tree, The whirling worlds that glimmer in the dark, All said: "G.o.d help us if no G.o.d there be."

Some hid in caves and chattered mad with fear At the uprising of the patient poor.

"He suffers with you," no more could they say, Thus lock with keys of Heaven their bonds secure, Some called their dead, and then remembering fell Abusing death and cursed the wormy grave, And wept for their long hoped-for Paradise, "G.o.d help us if there be no G.o.d to save!"

And others sought for right and found it not, And, seeking duty, found that it was dead, Blamed their long blameless lives and vowed no more To sacrifice, for "Might is right" they said.

And pleasure, leaping in the streets with sin, Caroused through many days till wearily She tired and met with death in bitter pain.

"Alas! G.o.d help us if no G.o.d we gain."

A few rose up and speaking, "O be strong,"

Were answered, "There's no reason for your right,"

But many crept in thankfulness for rest Into the river's darkness out of sight; And others with their limbs deformed, or sore Seared flesh, shrieked out their patient years of pain.

Crying to Death for their lost plains of Heaven.

"Alas! G.o.d help us if no G.o.d we gain."

LOVE

Deep in the moving depths Of yellow wine, I swore I'd drown your face, O love of mine; All clad in yellow hue, So fair to see, You crouched within my cup And laughed at me.

Twice o'er a learned page I turned and tossed, For would I not forget The love I lost.

All stern and robed in gloom, You read it too, I could not see the words- Saw only you.

Within the hungry chase I thought to kill You, love, who haunted thus Without my will, But in the gentle gaze Of fawn and deer, Your eyes disarmed my hand, And shook my spear.

Beneath a maid's dark lash I swore you'd drown, Sink in the laughing blue- Give in, go down: But no! you bathed there Right joyously, And from her liquid eyes You laughed at me.

WISHES

I wish we could live as the flowers live, To breathe and to bloom in the summer and sun; To slumber and sway in the heart of the night, And to die when our glory had done.

I wish we could love as the bees love, To rest or to roam without sorrow or sigh; With laughter, when, after the wooer had won, Love flew with a whispered good-bye.

I wish we could die as the birds die, To fly and to fall when our beauty was best: No trammels of time on the years of our face; And to leave but an empty nest.

CUPID SLAIN

I come from a burial; Hus.h.!.+ let me be: I have put away my love, Fair exceedingly.

Ah! the little gold curls Soft about his face; Now my heart is sorrowful For his sleeping-place.

But he would pursue me, Never let me rest; Till I turned and slew him, Knowing it were best.

Laid his bow beside him, Shovelled in the clay; To-morrow I'll forget him; Let me weep to-day.