[p26]CARROWMORE

[p26]CARROWMOREThegray winds call o’er Carrowmore,Call in the white of the dawn,And the grasses sigh o’er CarrowmoreWhen the purple night draws on.The cromlechs stand on CarrowmoreAs they ’ve stood since who can say;And the thin wraiths flit o’er CarrowmoreBetween the dusk and the day.There ’s never a hush on CarrowmoreCome autumn or come spring,For, oh, the tongues of Carrowmore,They are fain of whispering!And over and over Carrowmore’T will be ever thus,meseems,—Like the winnow of wings o’er CarrowmoreThe surge of the tide of dreams!

Thegray winds call o’er Carrowmore,Call in the white of the dawn,And the grasses sigh o’er CarrowmoreWhen the purple night draws on.The cromlechs stand on CarrowmoreAs they ’ve stood since who can say;And the thin wraiths flit o’er CarrowmoreBetween the dusk and the day.There ’s never a hush on CarrowmoreCome autumn or come spring,For, oh, the tongues of Carrowmore,They are fain of whispering!And over and over Carrowmore’T will be ever thus,meseems,—Like the winnow of wings o’er CarrowmoreThe surge of the tide of dreams!

Thegray winds call o’er Carrowmore,Call in the white of the dawn,And the grasses sigh o’er CarrowmoreWhen the purple night draws on.

Thegray winds call o’er Carrowmore,

Call in the white of the dawn,

And the grasses sigh o’er Carrowmore

When the purple night draws on.

The cromlechs stand on CarrowmoreAs they ’ve stood since who can say;And the thin wraiths flit o’er CarrowmoreBetween the dusk and the day.

The cromlechs stand on Carrowmore

As they ’ve stood since who can say;

And the thin wraiths flit o’er Carrowmore

Between the dusk and the day.

There ’s never a hush on CarrowmoreCome autumn or come spring,For, oh, the tongues of Carrowmore,They are fain of whispering!

There ’s never a hush on Carrowmore

Come autumn or come spring,

For, oh, the tongues of Carrowmore,

They are fain of whispering!

And over and over Carrowmore’T will be ever thus,meseems,—Like the winnow of wings o’er CarrowmoreThe surge of the tide of dreams!

And over and over Carrowmore

’T will be ever thus,meseems,—

Like the winnow of wings o’er Carrowmore

The surge of the tide of dreams!

[p27]ON CARAGH LAKEIOnCaragh lake the evening lightIs violet and amethyst,And the dark shadows of the pinesIn silence keep their twilight tryst.And high beyond the purple groves,The sweeping moors, the climbing fells,The rugged Kerry mountains standLike grim eternal sentinels.In dying whispers on the shoreThe ripples lap, the ripples break,And there is peace beyond all wordsAs night descends on Caragh lake!IIIn unexpected grooves of flightA blundering bat swoops swiftly by;From out a coppice drifts a bird’sLast plaintive melody.The lake is like a mirror dimWith no disturbing breath to mar,While o’er a lonely fell there burnsOne white vespernal star.

IOnCaragh lake the evening lightIs violet and amethyst,And the dark shadows of the pinesIn silence keep their twilight tryst.And high beyond the purple groves,The sweeping moors, the climbing fells,The rugged Kerry mountains standLike grim eternal sentinels.In dying whispers on the shoreThe ripples lap, the ripples break,And there is peace beyond all wordsAs night descends on Caragh lake!IIIn unexpected grooves of flightA blundering bat swoops swiftly by;From out a coppice drifts a bird’sLast plaintive melody.The lake is like a mirror dimWith no disturbing breath to mar,While o’er a lonely fell there burnsOne white vespernal star.

OnCaragh lake the evening lightIs violet and amethyst,And the dark shadows of the pinesIn silence keep their twilight tryst.

OnCaragh lake the evening light

Is violet and amethyst,

And the dark shadows of the pines

In silence keep their twilight tryst.

And high beyond the purple groves,The sweeping moors, the climbing fells,The rugged Kerry mountains standLike grim eternal sentinels.

And high beyond the purple groves,

The sweeping moors, the climbing fells,

The rugged Kerry mountains stand

Like grim eternal sentinels.

In dying whispers on the shoreThe ripples lap, the ripples break,And there is peace beyond all wordsAs night descends on Caragh lake!

In dying whispers on the shore

The ripples lap, the ripples break,

And there is peace beyond all words

As night descends on Caragh lake!

In unexpected grooves of flightA blundering bat swoops swiftly by;From out a coppice drifts a bird’sLast plaintive melody.

In unexpected grooves of flight

A blundering bat swoops swiftly by;

From out a coppice drifts a bird’s

Last plaintive melody.

The lake is like a mirror dimWith no disturbing breath to mar,While o’er a lonely fell there burnsOne white vespernal star.

The lake is like a mirror dim

With no disturbing breath to mar,

While o’er a lonely fell there burns

One white vespernal star.

[p28]RAHINANEWraptin mist and washed with rainIs the hill of Rahinane;Compassed by the hosts of sleepIs its keep.Only shadows come and go;Only wraiths flit to and fro;And the bat, grotesque and blind,And the wind.Just a shard of shattered hopeOn a barren Kerry slope;Just a ruin in the rain,Rahinane!

Wraptin mist and washed with rainIs the hill of Rahinane;Compassed by the hosts of sleepIs its keep.Only shadows come and go;Only wraiths flit to and fro;And the bat, grotesque and blind,And the wind.Just a shard of shattered hopeOn a barren Kerry slope;Just a ruin in the rain,Rahinane!

Wraptin mist and washed with rainIs the hill of Rahinane;Compassed by the hosts of sleepIs its keep.

Wraptin mist and washed with rain

Is the hill of Rahinane;

Compassed by the hosts of sleep

Is its keep.

Only shadows come and go;Only wraiths flit to and fro;And the bat, grotesque and blind,And the wind.

Only shadows come and go;

Only wraiths flit to and fro;

And the bat, grotesque and blind,

And the wind.

Just a shard of shattered hopeOn a barren Kerry slope;Just a ruin in the rain,Rahinane!

Just a shard of shattered hope

On a barren Kerry slope;

Just a ruin in the rain,

Rahinane!

[p29]THE WIND OF MOURNEThewind of Mourne comes over the hill,Over the hill with a trill of song,And the word of the wind sets my heartathrill,—“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”I seek my sweet where the roses stir,And the stars overhead are a marching throng,And this is the tale that I tell toher,—“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”

Thewind of Mourne comes over the hill,Over the hill with a trill of song,And the word of the wind sets my heartathrill,—“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”I seek my sweet where the roses stir,And the stars overhead are a marching throng,And this is the tale that I tell toher,—“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”

Thewind of Mourne comes over the hill,Over the hill with a trill of song,And the word of the wind sets my heartathrill,—“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”

Thewind of Mourne comes over the hill,

Over the hill with a trill of song,

And the word of the wind sets my heartathrill,—

“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”

I seek my sweet where the roses stir,And the stars overhead are a marching throng,And this is the tale that I tell toher,—“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”

I seek my sweet where the roses stir,

And the stars overhead are a marching throng,

And this is the tale that I tell toher,—

“Though life is brief, yet love is long!”

[p30]MAN AND MAID“Iknowa lad in Leitrim, I know a lad,” said she,“I know a lad in Leitrim would give his heart for me!”“I know a maid in Mayo, I know a maid,” said he,“I know a maid in Mayo would give her heart to me!”“Go to your maid in Mayo, go to your maid,” cried she;“Go to your maid in Mayo, for all—for all of me!”“Go to your lad in Leitrim, go to your lad,” cried he,“Go to your lad in Leitrim, for all—for all of me!”“And yet—and yet—” she faltered, “and yet—and yet,” blushed she,“That lad may stay in Leitrim! It ’s here I ’d rather be!”[p31]“And yet—and yet—” he echoed, “and yet—and yet—” smiled he,“That maid may stay in Mayo. It ’s there I ’d have her be!”’T is merry down in Kerry beside the laughing sea;’T is merry down in Kerry when man and maid agree!

“Iknowa lad in Leitrim, I know a lad,” said she,“I know a lad in Leitrim would give his heart for me!”“I know a maid in Mayo, I know a maid,” said he,“I know a maid in Mayo would give her heart to me!”“Go to your maid in Mayo, go to your maid,” cried she;“Go to your maid in Mayo, for all—for all of me!”“Go to your lad in Leitrim, go to your lad,” cried he,“Go to your lad in Leitrim, for all—for all of me!”“And yet—and yet—” she faltered, “and yet—and yet,” blushed she,“That lad may stay in Leitrim! It ’s here I ’d rather be!”[p31]“And yet—and yet—” he echoed, “and yet—and yet—” smiled he,“That maid may stay in Mayo. It ’s there I ’d have her be!”’T is merry down in Kerry beside the laughing sea;’T is merry down in Kerry when man and maid agree!

“Iknowa lad in Leitrim, I know a lad,” said she,“I know a lad in Leitrim would give his heart for me!”

“Iknowa lad in Leitrim, I know a lad,” said she,

“I know a lad in Leitrim would give his heart for me!”

“I know a maid in Mayo, I know a maid,” said he,“I know a maid in Mayo would give her heart to me!”

“I know a maid in Mayo, I know a maid,” said he,

“I know a maid in Mayo would give her heart to me!”

“Go to your maid in Mayo, go to your maid,” cried she;“Go to your maid in Mayo, for all—for all of me!”

“Go to your maid in Mayo, go to your maid,” cried she;

“Go to your maid in Mayo, for all—for all of me!”

“Go to your lad in Leitrim, go to your lad,” cried he,“Go to your lad in Leitrim, for all—for all of me!”

“Go to your lad in Leitrim, go to your lad,” cried he,

“Go to your lad in Leitrim, for all—for all of me!”

“And yet—and yet—” she faltered, “and yet—and yet,” blushed she,“That lad may stay in Leitrim! It ’s here I ’d rather be!”

“And yet—and yet—” she faltered, “and yet—and yet,” blushed she,

“That lad may stay in Leitrim! It ’s here I ’d rather be!”

[p31]“And yet—and yet—” he echoed, “and yet—and yet—” smiled he,“That maid may stay in Mayo. It ’s there I ’d have her be!”

[p31]“And yet—and yet—” he echoed, “and yet—and yet—” smiled he,

“That maid may stay in Mayo. It ’s there I ’d have her be!”

’T is merry down in Kerry beside the laughing sea;’T is merry down in Kerry when man and maid agree!

’T is merry down in Kerry beside the laughing sea;

’T is merry down in Kerry when man and maid agree!

[p32]THE HUNTERIcreptup Benbulbin a-hunting theboar;Mist swooped on the heather, mist swept down the shore,And all of the tongues of the mountain, they murmured behind and before.Then out of a cleft rose a terrible cry,And a form like a demon went ravening by,And I fell in a quake on the moss, and I thought I should die.I ’m no hunting man now, and I sit by the fire,And whenever the wind keens around by the byre,I shiver and rock like a reed that has root in the mire.And if you ’re a young man, and sound to the core,And a sweet maid is waiting you home at the door,Beware how you creep up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar!

Icreptup Benbulbin a-hunting theboar;Mist swooped on the heather, mist swept down the shore,And all of the tongues of the mountain, they murmured behind and before.Then out of a cleft rose a terrible cry,And a form like a demon went ravening by,And I fell in a quake on the moss, and I thought I should die.I ’m no hunting man now, and I sit by the fire,And whenever the wind keens around by the byre,I shiver and rock like a reed that has root in the mire.And if you ’re a young man, and sound to the core,And a sweet maid is waiting you home at the door,Beware how you creep up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar!

Icreptup Benbulbin a-hunting theboar;Mist swooped on the heather, mist swept down the shore,And all of the tongues of the mountain, they murmured behind and before.

Icreptup Benbulbin a-hunting theboar;

Mist swooped on the heather, mist swept down the shore,

And all of the tongues of the mountain, they murmured behind and before.

Then out of a cleft rose a terrible cry,And a form like a demon went ravening by,And I fell in a quake on the moss, and I thought I should die.

Then out of a cleft rose a terrible cry,

And a form like a demon went ravening by,

And I fell in a quake on the moss, and I thought I should die.

I ’m no hunting man now, and I sit by the fire,And whenever the wind keens around by the byre,I shiver and rock like a reed that has root in the mire.

I ’m no hunting man now, and I sit by the fire,

And whenever the wind keens around by the byre,

I shiver and rock like a reed that has root in the mire.

And if you ’re a young man, and sound to the core,And a sweet maid is waiting you home at the door,Beware how you creep up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar!

And if you ’re a young man, and sound to the core,

And a sweet maid is waiting you home at the door,

Beware how you creep up Benbulbin a-hunting the boar!

[p33]RAIN SONGOh, it ’s gray rain in thevalleys,White rain where the moorland lies,And in from the bleak sea-bordersA gust that keens and cries.Sheep huddle in the hollows,And the cattle seek the byre,But I must be up and faringAway from the warm peat fire;I must be up and faring,For this is the hour of tryst,And Sheilah will be waitingAt the glen amid the mist.Oh, what ’s gray rain to lovers,And what though white rains fall,When blue skies shine in Sheilah’s eyesFor a lad of Donegal!

Oh, it ’s gray rain in thevalleys,White rain where the moorland lies,And in from the bleak sea-bordersA gust that keens and cries.Sheep huddle in the hollows,And the cattle seek the byre,But I must be up and faringAway from the warm peat fire;I must be up and faring,For this is the hour of tryst,And Sheilah will be waitingAt the glen amid the mist.Oh, what ’s gray rain to lovers,And what though white rains fall,When blue skies shine in Sheilah’s eyesFor a lad of Donegal!

Oh, it ’s gray rain in thevalleys,White rain where the moorland lies,And in from the bleak sea-bordersA gust that keens and cries.

Oh, it ’s gray rain in thevalleys,

White rain where the moorland lies,

And in from the bleak sea-borders

A gust that keens and cries.

Sheep huddle in the hollows,And the cattle seek the byre,But I must be up and faringAway from the warm peat fire;

Sheep huddle in the hollows,

And the cattle seek the byre,

But I must be up and faring

Away from the warm peat fire;

I must be up and faring,For this is the hour of tryst,And Sheilah will be waitingAt the glen amid the mist.

I must be up and faring,

For this is the hour of tryst,

And Sheilah will be waiting

At the glen amid the mist.

Oh, what ’s gray rain to lovers,And what though white rains fall,When blue skies shine in Sheilah’s eyesFor a lad of Donegal!

Oh, what ’s gray rain to lovers,

And what though white rains fall,

When blue skies shine in Sheilah’s eyes

For a lad of Donegal!

[p34]A ROVEROh, I am just a roverAmong the roving menWho loves to watch the sunlightUpon the flowering fen;Who fain would feel the heatherDew-soft beneath his treadWhen morning parts the cloud-wrackAbove Benbulbin’s head;Who likes to lie and lingerUntil the rising moonShows all her midnight gloriesHigh o’er the Lough of Cloon;Whose feet were shaped to followThe road’s eternal lureFrom stormy StockaruddenTo sunny Knockanure!But since there ’s Sheilah calling,(’T is love that ’s in her call!)Faith, I am just a roverWho ’ll rove no more at all!

Oh, I am just a roverAmong the roving menWho loves to watch the sunlightUpon the flowering fen;Who fain would feel the heatherDew-soft beneath his treadWhen morning parts the cloud-wrackAbove Benbulbin’s head;Who likes to lie and lingerUntil the rising moonShows all her midnight gloriesHigh o’er the Lough of Cloon;Whose feet were shaped to followThe road’s eternal lureFrom stormy StockaruddenTo sunny Knockanure!But since there ’s Sheilah calling,(’T is love that ’s in her call!)Faith, I am just a roverWho ’ll rove no more at all!

Oh, I am just a roverAmong the roving menWho loves to watch the sunlightUpon the flowering fen;

Oh, I am just a rover

Among the roving men

Who loves to watch the sunlight

Upon the flowering fen;

Who fain would feel the heatherDew-soft beneath his treadWhen morning parts the cloud-wrackAbove Benbulbin’s head;

Who fain would feel the heather

Dew-soft beneath his tread

When morning parts the cloud-wrack

Above Benbulbin’s head;

Who likes to lie and lingerUntil the rising moonShows all her midnight gloriesHigh o’er the Lough of Cloon;

Who likes to lie and linger

Until the rising moon

Shows all her midnight glories

High o’er the Lough of Cloon;

Whose feet were shaped to followThe road’s eternal lureFrom stormy StockaruddenTo sunny Knockanure!

Whose feet were shaped to follow

The road’s eternal lure

From stormy Stockarudden

To sunny Knockanure!

But since there ’s Sheilah calling,(’T is love that ’s in her call!)Faith, I am just a roverWho ’ll rove no more at all!

But since there ’s Sheilah calling,

(’T is love that ’s in her call!)

Faith, I am just a rover

Who ’ll rove no more at all!

[p35]QUEENSFairMaeve, that was queen of Beauty,Whither, whither has she gone?Ask the cairn that over SligoLifts its stones to greet the dawn!Deirdre, that was queen of Sorrow,Whither, whither has she fled?Ask the woods of Finglas WaterThat once knew her lissome tread!Queens!—they are no more than mortal;Even they must pale and passLike the prismy dews of dawningOn the heather and the grass!

FairMaeve, that was queen of Beauty,Whither, whither has she gone?Ask the cairn that over SligoLifts its stones to greet the dawn!Deirdre, that was queen of Sorrow,Whither, whither has she fled?Ask the woods of Finglas WaterThat once knew her lissome tread!Queens!—they are no more than mortal;Even they must pale and passLike the prismy dews of dawningOn the heather and the grass!

FairMaeve, that was queen of Beauty,Whither, whither has she gone?Ask the cairn that over SligoLifts its stones to greet the dawn!

FairMaeve, that was queen of Beauty,

Whither, whither has she gone?

Ask the cairn that over Sligo

Lifts its stones to greet the dawn!

Deirdre, that was queen of Sorrow,Whither, whither has she fled?Ask the woods of Finglas WaterThat once knew her lissome tread!

Deirdre, that was queen of Sorrow,

Whither, whither has she fled?

Ask the woods of Finglas Water

That once knew her lissome tread!

Queens!—they are no more than mortal;Even they must pale and passLike the prismy dews of dawningOn the heather and the grass!

Queens!—they are no more than mortal;

Even they must pale and pass

Like the prismy dews of dawning

On the heather and the grass!

[p36]THE WONDERSIdreamof the ancient wonders, of the isle of Hy BrasailThat rides through the mists of Mayo, then fades like a fading sail;I dream of the ancient wonders, but there ’s one that haunts me more,’T is the faun-like grace of Moira upon Lough Corib’s shore.I dream of the ancient wonders, of the wells of Death and Life,Of the voices of the Forest that quell both hate and strife;I dream of the ancient wonders, but greater than them allIs the luring laugh of Moira when day ’s at evenfall.I dream of the ancient wonders, of the Cross caught up in air,Of the swan of sweet Feale Water that was a maiden fair;I dream of the ancient wonders, but each fades in eclipseAt the lifted arms of Moira, and Moira’s lifted lips!

Idreamof the ancient wonders, of the isle of Hy BrasailThat rides through the mists of Mayo, then fades like a fading sail;I dream of the ancient wonders, but there ’s one that haunts me more,’T is the faun-like grace of Moira upon Lough Corib’s shore.I dream of the ancient wonders, of the wells of Death and Life,Of the voices of the Forest that quell both hate and strife;I dream of the ancient wonders, but greater than them allIs the luring laugh of Moira when day ’s at evenfall.I dream of the ancient wonders, of the Cross caught up in air,Of the swan of sweet Feale Water that was a maiden fair;I dream of the ancient wonders, but each fades in eclipseAt the lifted arms of Moira, and Moira’s lifted lips!

Idreamof the ancient wonders, of the isle of Hy Brasail

That rides through the mists of Mayo, then fades like a fading sail;

I dream of the ancient wonders, but there ’s one that haunts me more,

’T is the faun-like grace of Moira upon Lough Corib’s shore.

I dream of the ancient wonders, of the wells of Death and Life,Of the voices of the Forest that quell both hate and strife;I dream of the ancient wonders, but greater than them allIs the luring laugh of Moira when day ’s at evenfall.

I dream of the ancient wonders, of the wells of Death and Life,

Of the voices of the Forest that quell both hate and strife;

I dream of the ancient wonders, but greater than them all

Is the luring laugh of Moira when day ’s at evenfall.

I dream of the ancient wonders, of the Cross caught up in air,Of the swan of sweet Feale Water that was a maiden fair;I dream of the ancient wonders, but each fades in eclipseAt the lifted arms of Moira, and Moira’s lifted lips!

I dream of the ancient wonders, of the Cross caught up in air,

Of the swan of sweet Feale Water that was a maiden fair;

I dream of the ancient wonders, but each fades in eclipse

At the lifted arms of Moira, and Moira’s lifted lips!

[p37]AT MONAREEWhenspringtime comes to Monaree I knowHow the blue hyacinths blow,And how the daffodil lights its golden glow.These blossoms are remembrancers of thoseWho lie in long repose,Lost to our earthly scenes of joys andwoes,—The saints of other days. How fair to seeThese living emblems beOf their good deeds—with spring at Monaree!

Whenspringtime comes to Monaree I knowHow the blue hyacinths blow,And how the daffodil lights its golden glow.These blossoms are remembrancers of thoseWho lie in long repose,Lost to our earthly scenes of joys andwoes,—The saints of other days. How fair to seeThese living emblems beOf their good deeds—with spring at Monaree!

Whenspringtime comes to Monaree I knowHow the blue hyacinths blow,And how the daffodil lights its golden glow.

Whenspringtime comes to Monaree I know

How the blue hyacinths blow,

And how the daffodil lights its golden glow.

These blossoms are remembrancers of thoseWho lie in long repose,Lost to our earthly scenes of joys andwoes,—

These blossoms are remembrancers of those

Who lie in long repose,

Lost to our earthly scenes of joys andwoes,—

The saints of other days. How fair to seeThese living emblems beOf their good deeds—with spring at Monaree!

The saints of other days. How fair to see

These living emblems be

Of their good deeds—with spring at Monaree!

[p38]HEATHER SONGBlueweather, blue weather abroad on themoors,And the cry of the wind that elates and allures;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!The brook in the bracken, it prattles and purls,And the lips of the rose are as red as a girl’s;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!And the path that leads up from the stile at the startIs the path of my longing, the path of my heart;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!For I know I shall find her, my fair heather-bell,In the warm little dip at the crest of the fell,And her smile, ah, the burden of love it will tell!Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

Blueweather, blue weather abroad on themoors,And the cry of the wind that elates and allures;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!The brook in the bracken, it prattles and purls,And the lips of the rose are as red as a girl’s;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!And the path that leads up from the stile at the startIs the path of my longing, the path of my heart;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!For I know I shall find her, my fair heather-bell,In the warm little dip at the crest of the fell,And her smile, ah, the burden of love it will tell!Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

Blueweather, blue weather abroad on themoors,And the cry of the wind that elates and allures;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

Blueweather, blue weather abroad on themoors,

And the cry of the wind that elates and allures;

Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

The brook in the bracken, it prattles and purls,And the lips of the rose are as red as a girl’s;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

The brook in the bracken, it prattles and purls,

And the lips of the rose are as red as a girl’s;

Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

And the path that leads up from the stile at the startIs the path of my longing, the path of my heart;Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

And the path that leads up from the stile at the start

Is the path of my longing, the path of my heart;

Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

For I know I shall find her, my fair heather-bell,In the warm little dip at the crest of the fell,And her smile, ah, the burden of love it will tell!Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

For I know I shall find her, my fair heather-bell,

In the warm little dip at the crest of the fell,

And her smile, ah, the burden of love it will tell!

Sing “hey” and sing “ho” for the heather!

[p39]OFF CONNEMARAOffthe coast ofConnemara,Sailor, sailor, what ’s the hail?“Dip the sail to SaintMacdara—Dip the sail!”So we dipped it as we tripped itSouthward with the fluting gale.Long ago did Saint MacdaraPass beyond this mortal pale;Yet to-day off ConnemaraDeeds of godliness avail;Where the good old saint said massesEvery sailor, as he passes,Dips the sail.

Offthe coast ofConnemara,Sailor, sailor, what ’s the hail?“Dip the sail to SaintMacdara—Dip the sail!”So we dipped it as we tripped itSouthward with the fluting gale.Long ago did Saint MacdaraPass beyond this mortal pale;Yet to-day off ConnemaraDeeds of godliness avail;Where the good old saint said massesEvery sailor, as he passes,Dips the sail.

Offthe coast ofConnemara,Sailor, sailor, what ’s the hail?“Dip the sail to SaintMacdara—Dip the sail!”So we dipped it as we tripped itSouthward with the fluting gale.

Offthe coast ofConnemara,

Sailor, sailor, what ’s the hail?

“Dip the sail to SaintMacdara—

Dip the sail!”

So we dipped it as we tripped it

Southward with the fluting gale.

Long ago did Saint MacdaraPass beyond this mortal pale;Yet to-day off ConnemaraDeeds of godliness avail;Where the good old saint said massesEvery sailor, as he passes,Dips the sail.

Long ago did Saint Macdara

Pass beyond this mortal pale;

Yet to-day off Connemara

Deeds of godliness avail;

Where the good old saint said masses

Every sailor, as he passes,

Dips the sail.

[p40]POPPIES AT MONASTERAVENAsclear on my mind aregravenAs the carving upon a shieldThe poppies at Monasteraven,And the cottage in the field;The glint of a thick thorn coppiceGreenly girdling all,And the glow of the scarlet poppiesUnder the cottage wall!Just a fleeting visionCaught as I hurried by,A little scene elysianUnder the morning sky.For some one a happy haven,It thus to my heart appealed,The poppies at Monasteraven,And the cottage in the field.

Asclear on my mind aregravenAs the carving upon a shieldThe poppies at Monasteraven,And the cottage in the field;The glint of a thick thorn coppiceGreenly girdling all,And the glow of the scarlet poppiesUnder the cottage wall!Just a fleeting visionCaught as I hurried by,A little scene elysianUnder the morning sky.For some one a happy haven,It thus to my heart appealed,The poppies at Monasteraven,And the cottage in the field.

Asclear on my mind aregravenAs the carving upon a shieldThe poppies at Monasteraven,And the cottage in the field;

Asclear on my mind aregraven

As the carving upon a shield

The poppies at Monasteraven,

And the cottage in the field;

The glint of a thick thorn coppiceGreenly girdling all,And the glow of the scarlet poppiesUnder the cottage wall!

The glint of a thick thorn coppice

Greenly girdling all,

And the glow of the scarlet poppies

Under the cottage wall!

Just a fleeting visionCaught as I hurried by,A little scene elysianUnder the morning sky.

Just a fleeting vision

Caught as I hurried by,

A little scene elysian

Under the morning sky.

For some one a happy haven,It thus to my heart appealed,The poppies at Monasteraven,And the cottage in the field.

For some one a happy haven,

It thus to my heart appealed,

The poppies at Monasteraven,

And the cottage in the field.

[p41]THE GLEN OF CASTLEMAINEOh, the shadows they lie deep in the glen of Castlemaine,Purple as the gulfs of sleep, gray as are the drifts of rain!Here are eerie feet that creep when the moon is on the wane.In the glen of Castlemaine there are eldritch tongues that call;And the little leaves have words that will hold the heart in thrall.In the glen of Castlemaine there ’s a glamour over all.For the fays have cast their spell o’er the glen of Castlemaine;There is brooding wonder there, but no dream of blight or bane;Here, if you have loved and lost, you may find your love again!

Oh, the shadows they lie deep in the glen of Castlemaine,Purple as the gulfs of sleep, gray as are the drifts of rain!Here are eerie feet that creep when the moon is on the wane.In the glen of Castlemaine there are eldritch tongues that call;And the little leaves have words that will hold the heart in thrall.In the glen of Castlemaine there ’s a glamour over all.For the fays have cast their spell o’er the glen of Castlemaine;There is brooding wonder there, but no dream of blight or bane;Here, if you have loved and lost, you may find your love again!

Oh, the shadows they lie deep in the glen of Castlemaine,Purple as the gulfs of sleep, gray as are the drifts of rain!Here are eerie feet that creep when the moon is on the wane.

Oh, the shadows they lie deep in the glen of Castlemaine,

Purple as the gulfs of sleep, gray as are the drifts of rain!

Here are eerie feet that creep when the moon is on the wane.

In the glen of Castlemaine there are eldritch tongues that call;And the little leaves have words that will hold the heart in thrall.In the glen of Castlemaine there ’s a glamour over all.

In the glen of Castlemaine there are eldritch tongues that call;

And the little leaves have words that will hold the heart in thrall.

In the glen of Castlemaine there ’s a glamour over all.

For the fays have cast their spell o’er the glen of Castlemaine;There is brooding wonder there, but no dream of blight or bane;Here, if you have loved and lost, you may find your love again!

For the fays have cast their spell o’er the glen of Castlemaine;

There is brooding wonder there, but no dream of blight or bane;

Here, if you have loved and lost, you may find your love again!

[p42]SONGJustthe sun on a slope ofheather,The long blue wind and the open sea;All the cares of the world in tether,And nobody there but you and me!That ’s my wish in the golden weather;Love, you echo the wish with me?Come, then, ho, for the slope of heather,The long blue wind and the open sea!

Justthe sun on a slope ofheather,The long blue wind and the open sea;All the cares of the world in tether,And nobody there but you and me!That ’s my wish in the golden weather;Love, you echo the wish with me?Come, then, ho, for the slope of heather,The long blue wind and the open sea!

Justthe sun on a slope ofheather,The long blue wind and the open sea;All the cares of the world in tether,And nobody there but you and me!

Justthe sun on a slope ofheather,

The long blue wind and the open sea;

All the cares of the world in tether,

And nobody there but you and me!

That ’s my wish in the golden weather;Love, you echo the wish with me?Come, then, ho, for the slope of heather,The long blue wind and the open sea!

That ’s my wish in the golden weather;

Love, you echo the wish with me?

Come, then, ho, for the slope of heather,

The long blue wind and the open sea!

[p43]KILMELCHEDORFarremoved from strife andwarIs the shrine of Kilmelchedor;O’er one crumbling archway seeClearly graven—Domine!Master then and master still,How we lean upon His willWho forevermore will beUnto all men—Domine!

Farremoved from strife andwarIs the shrine of Kilmelchedor;O’er one crumbling archway seeClearly graven—Domine!Master then and master still,How we lean upon His willWho forevermore will beUnto all men—Domine!

Farremoved from strife andwarIs the shrine of Kilmelchedor;O’er one crumbling archway seeClearly graven—Domine!

Farremoved from strife andwar

Is the shrine of Kilmelchedor;

O’er one crumbling archway see

Clearly graven—Domine!

Master then and master still,How we lean upon His willWho forevermore will beUnto all men—Domine!

Master then and master still,

How we lean upon His will

Who forevermore will be

Unto all men—Domine!

[p44]AT DINGLEAtDingle, upon sand and shingle,Softly the ripples curve and creep;Without the white-caps meet and mingle,Without the breakers range and leap.Here there is calm, here there is quiet,And the sweet sense of long delay;There time and tide by winds that riotSeem from their moorings swept away.Which will you choose from life, mymasters,—Where waves are lulled to dream at ease,Or, in the face of grim disasters,To sail with daring down the seas?

AtDingle, upon sand and shingle,Softly the ripples curve and creep;Without the white-caps meet and mingle,Without the breakers range and leap.Here there is calm, here there is quiet,And the sweet sense of long delay;There time and tide by winds that riotSeem from their moorings swept away.Which will you choose from life, mymasters,—Where waves are lulled to dream at ease,Or, in the face of grim disasters,To sail with daring down the seas?

AtDingle, upon sand and shingle,Softly the ripples curve and creep;Without the white-caps meet and mingle,Without the breakers range and leap.

AtDingle, upon sand and shingle,

Softly the ripples curve and creep;

Without the white-caps meet and mingle,

Without the breakers range and leap.

Here there is calm, here there is quiet,And the sweet sense of long delay;There time and tide by winds that riotSeem from their moorings swept away.

Here there is calm, here there is quiet,

And the sweet sense of long delay;

There time and tide by winds that riot

Seem from their moorings swept away.

Which will you choose from life, mymasters,—Where waves are lulled to dream at ease,Or, in the face of grim disasters,To sail with daring down the seas?

Which will you choose from life, mymasters,—

Where waves are lulled to dream at ease,

Or, in the face of grim disasters,

To sail with daring down the seas?

[p45]BACK TO KILLARNEYOh, it ’s back to Killarney, the glow and the gleam of it,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney, the vision and dream of it,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!Back to Killarney at sun or at shower-time,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney at frost or at flower-time,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!Back to Killarney whose soil seems a part of me,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney to soothe the sad heart of me,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

Oh, it ’s back to Killarney, the glow and the gleam of it,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney, the vision and dream of it,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!Back to Killarney at sun or at shower-time,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney at frost or at flower-time,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!Back to Killarney whose soil seems a part of me,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney to soothe the sad heart of me,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

Oh, it ’s back to Killarney, the glow and the gleam of it,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney, the vision and dream of it,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

Oh, it ’s back to Killarney, the glow and the gleam of it,

Back to Killarney for me;

Back to Killarney, the vision and dream of it,

Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

Back to Killarney at sun or at shower-time,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney at frost or at flower-time,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

Back to Killarney at sun or at shower-time,

Back to Killarney for me;

Back to Killarney at frost or at flower-time,

Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

Back to Killarney whose soil seems a part of me,Back to Killarney for me;Back to Killarney to soothe the sad heart of me,Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

Back to Killarney whose soil seems a part of me,

Back to Killarney for me;

Back to Killarney to soothe the sad heart of me,

Back to Killarney, my own countrie!

[p46]GLENCAR WATERIstoodby GlencarWaterWhen spring filled all the air,And, oh, by Glencar WaterIt ’s a lovely place to fare!The song of Glencar WaterIt has such silvery frets;And there, by Glencar Water,Are banks of violets.But harsh seems Glencar WaterTo Norah’s soft replies,And the flowers by Glencar WaterAre naught to Norah’s eyes!

Istoodby GlencarWaterWhen spring filled all the air,And, oh, by Glencar WaterIt ’s a lovely place to fare!The song of Glencar WaterIt has such silvery frets;And there, by Glencar Water,Are banks of violets.But harsh seems Glencar WaterTo Norah’s soft replies,And the flowers by Glencar WaterAre naught to Norah’s eyes!

Istoodby GlencarWaterWhen spring filled all the air,And, oh, by Glencar WaterIt ’s a lovely place to fare!

Istoodby GlencarWater

When spring filled all the air,

And, oh, by Glencar Water

It ’s a lovely place to fare!

The song of Glencar WaterIt has such silvery frets;And there, by Glencar Water,Are banks of violets.

The song of Glencar Water

It has such silvery frets;

And there, by Glencar Water,

Are banks of violets.

But harsh seems Glencar WaterTo Norah’s soft replies,And the flowers by Glencar WaterAre naught to Norah’s eyes!

But harsh seems Glencar Water

To Norah’s soft replies,

And the flowers by Glencar Water

Are naught to Norah’s eyes!

[p47]FROM DERRY TO KERRY’TwixtDerry and Kerry there ’s many a mile;They ’ve right men in Derry, no doubt;But give me the Kerry man’s blarneying smile,And give me the Kerry girl’s conjuring wile,And lips, like a peach, in a pout!And give me the sails tacking in to Tralee,And the dip of the bluff Dingle bows,And under Beenaman the surge of the sea,The heathery slopes that are haunts for the beeWhere Carraghmore raises its brows!From Derry to Kerry the leagues they are longFor a foot-weary rover to wend,But I take the far track with a snatch of a song,And a ready forgetting of aught that is wrong,If Kerry ’s the goal at the end!

’TwixtDerry and Kerry there ’s many a mile;They ’ve right men in Derry, no doubt;But give me the Kerry man’s blarneying smile,And give me the Kerry girl’s conjuring wile,And lips, like a peach, in a pout!And give me the sails tacking in to Tralee,And the dip of the bluff Dingle bows,And under Beenaman the surge of the sea,The heathery slopes that are haunts for the beeWhere Carraghmore raises its brows!From Derry to Kerry the leagues they are longFor a foot-weary rover to wend,But I take the far track with a snatch of a song,And a ready forgetting of aught that is wrong,If Kerry ’s the goal at the end!

’TwixtDerry and Kerry there ’s many a mile;

They ’ve right men in Derry, no doubt;

But give me the Kerry man’s blarneying smile,

And give me the Kerry girl’s conjuring wile,

And lips, like a peach, in a pout!

And give me the sails tacking in to Tralee,And the dip of the bluff Dingle bows,And under Beenaman the surge of the sea,The heathery slopes that are haunts for the beeWhere Carraghmore raises its brows!

And give me the sails tacking in to Tralee,

And the dip of the bluff Dingle bows,

And under Beenaman the surge of the sea,

The heathery slopes that are haunts for the bee

Where Carraghmore raises its brows!

From Derry to Kerry the leagues they are longFor a foot-weary rover to wend,But I take the far track with a snatch of a song,And a ready forgetting of aught that is wrong,If Kerry ’s the goal at the end!

From Derry to Kerry the leagues they are long

For a foot-weary rover to wend,

But I take the far track with a snatch of a song,

And a ready forgetting of aught that is wrong,

If Kerry ’s the goal at the end!

[p48]A KING IN KERRYIdreameda dream, mavourneen, I dreamed a dream yestreen,That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen.I roused and ranged about me three score of burnished spears,And rode across the moorland, the north wind round my ears.It bore me buoyant tidings,—your beauty and yourgrace,—And, as I galloped forward, I yearned upon your face.We fared by Abbeydorney, Listowel and Lixnaw,Where all my word was wisdom, and all my look was law.We never paused to bivouac; we never paused to sleepWhere murmurous Feale Water ran shallow or ran deep.[p49]We swam the swirl of Shannon; we hurled back to his lairThe blustering O’Brien who ruled the kerns of Claire.Then, mire and foam-bespattered, about the dusk of dayWe came where Galway’s turrets loomed over Galway’s bay.The silence throbbed with trumpets, tumultuous, elate,And you, a flower of wonder, bloomed in the castle gate.You made the flush of sunset seem but a pallid thing;Your voice had all the rapture that trembles through the spring.Within your eyes the love-light was glory after drouth;All summer’s hoarded honey was one kiss from your mouth.Deirdre, whose tragic beauty the great Cuchullin knew,And Maeve, the long lamented, sooth, what were they to you![p50]In through the rush-strewn hallway you led us to the feast;And when the wine was drunken there stood the stolèd priest.He oped the holy bride-book; he read the marriage rite;And then—and then—mavourneen, it was our wedding night!Would I might dream it over, the dream I dreamed yestreen,That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen!

Idreameda dream, mavourneen, I dreamed a dream yestreen,That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen.I roused and ranged about me three score of burnished spears,And rode across the moorland, the north wind round my ears.It bore me buoyant tidings,—your beauty and yourgrace,—And, as I galloped forward, I yearned upon your face.We fared by Abbeydorney, Listowel and Lixnaw,Where all my word was wisdom, and all my look was law.We never paused to bivouac; we never paused to sleepWhere murmurous Feale Water ran shallow or ran deep.[p49]We swam the swirl of Shannon; we hurled back to his lairThe blustering O’Brien who ruled the kerns of Claire.Then, mire and foam-bespattered, about the dusk of dayWe came where Galway’s turrets loomed over Galway’s bay.The silence throbbed with trumpets, tumultuous, elate,And you, a flower of wonder, bloomed in the castle gate.You made the flush of sunset seem but a pallid thing;Your voice had all the rapture that trembles through the spring.Within your eyes the love-light was glory after drouth;All summer’s hoarded honey was one kiss from your mouth.Deirdre, whose tragic beauty the great Cuchullin knew,And Maeve, the long lamented, sooth, what were they to you![p50]In through the rush-strewn hallway you led us to the feast;And when the wine was drunken there stood the stolèd priest.He oped the holy bride-book; he read the marriage rite;And then—and then—mavourneen, it was our wedding night!Would I might dream it over, the dream I dreamed yestreen,That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen!

Idreameda dream, mavourneen, I dreamed a dream yestreen,That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen.

Idreameda dream, mavourneen, I dreamed a dream yestreen,

That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen.

I roused and ranged about me three score of burnished spears,And rode across the moorland, the north wind round my ears.

I roused and ranged about me three score of burnished spears,

And rode across the moorland, the north wind round my ears.

It bore me buoyant tidings,—your beauty and yourgrace,—And, as I galloped forward, I yearned upon your face.

It bore me buoyant tidings,—your beauty and yourgrace,—

And, as I galloped forward, I yearned upon your face.

We fared by Abbeydorney, Listowel and Lixnaw,Where all my word was wisdom, and all my look was law.

We fared by Abbeydorney, Listowel and Lixnaw,

Where all my word was wisdom, and all my look was law.

We never paused to bivouac; we never paused to sleepWhere murmurous Feale Water ran shallow or ran deep.

We never paused to bivouac; we never paused to sleep

Where murmurous Feale Water ran shallow or ran deep.

[p49]We swam the swirl of Shannon; we hurled back to his lairThe blustering O’Brien who ruled the kerns of Claire.

[p49]We swam the swirl of Shannon; we hurled back to his lair

The blustering O’Brien who ruled the kerns of Claire.

Then, mire and foam-bespattered, about the dusk of dayWe came where Galway’s turrets loomed over Galway’s bay.

Then, mire and foam-bespattered, about the dusk of day

We came where Galway’s turrets loomed over Galway’s bay.

The silence throbbed with trumpets, tumultuous, elate,And you, a flower of wonder, bloomed in the castle gate.

The silence throbbed with trumpets, tumultuous, elate,

And you, a flower of wonder, bloomed in the castle gate.

You made the flush of sunset seem but a pallid thing;Your voice had all the rapture that trembles through the spring.

You made the flush of sunset seem but a pallid thing;

Your voice had all the rapture that trembles through the spring.

Within your eyes the love-light was glory after drouth;All summer’s hoarded honey was one kiss from your mouth.

Within your eyes the love-light was glory after drouth;

All summer’s hoarded honey was one kiss from your mouth.

Deirdre, whose tragic beauty the great Cuchullin knew,And Maeve, the long lamented, sooth, what were they to you!

Deirdre, whose tragic beauty the great Cuchullin knew,

And Maeve, the long lamented, sooth, what were they to you!

[p50]In through the rush-strewn hallway you led us to the feast;And when the wine was drunken there stood the stolèd priest.

[p50]In through the rush-strewn hallway you led us to the feast;

And when the wine was drunken there stood the stolèd priest.

He oped the holy bride-book; he read the marriage rite;And then—and then—mavourneen, it was our wedding night!

He oped the holy bride-book; he read the marriage rite;

And then—and then—mavourneen, it was our wedding night!

Would I might dream it over, the dream I dreamed yestreen,That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen!

Would I might dream it over, the dream I dreamed yestreen,

That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway’s Queen!

[p51]A KERRY LADThere’s a Kerry lad a-wandering across the dipping sea,A Kerry lad a-wandering the foam,And oh, the swelling joy of it, the joy that there will beWhen that wandering Kerry lad comes home!There ’ll be glad voices calling him, glad voices in the street,And hands to clasp the hands of the gossoon;There ’ll be soft winds a-whispering above the fields of peat,And little birds a-carolling in tune!The Kerry sky ’ll be bluer then, for all the clouds will part,And greener ’ll be the grass above the loam,And oh, the happy feeling in one lonely Irish heartWhen that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

There’s a Kerry lad a-wandering across the dipping sea,A Kerry lad a-wandering the foam,And oh, the swelling joy of it, the joy that there will beWhen that wandering Kerry lad comes home!There ’ll be glad voices calling him, glad voices in the street,And hands to clasp the hands of the gossoon;There ’ll be soft winds a-whispering above the fields of peat,And little birds a-carolling in tune!The Kerry sky ’ll be bluer then, for all the clouds will part,And greener ’ll be the grass above the loam,And oh, the happy feeling in one lonely Irish heartWhen that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

There’s a Kerry lad a-wandering across the dipping sea,A Kerry lad a-wandering the foam,And oh, the swelling joy of it, the joy that there will beWhen that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

There’s a Kerry lad a-wandering across the dipping sea,

A Kerry lad a-wandering the foam,

And oh, the swelling joy of it, the joy that there will be

When that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

There ’ll be glad voices calling him, glad voices in the street,And hands to clasp the hands of the gossoon;There ’ll be soft winds a-whispering above the fields of peat,And little birds a-carolling in tune!

There ’ll be glad voices calling him, glad voices in the street,

And hands to clasp the hands of the gossoon;

There ’ll be soft winds a-whispering above the fields of peat,

And little birds a-carolling in tune!

The Kerry sky ’ll be bluer then, for all the clouds will part,And greener ’ll be the grass above the loam,And oh, the happy feeling in one lonely Irish heartWhen that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

The Kerry sky ’ll be bluer then, for all the clouds will part,

And greener ’ll be the grass above the loam,

And oh, the happy feeling in one lonely Irish heart

When that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

[p52]A KERRY DAYUnderthe sweep of a fell the smoke-reek curls anddriftsWhere a white-walled cottage stands nestling amid the green;Kerry skies above arched with their azure riftsWhere a glint of sun peeps through to brighten the peaceful scene.Cattle stand at graze, and there are the piles of peat,And there is the swift Feale Water rimpling, dimpling away;And there are the cocks of hay, and the smell of the hay is sweet,And this is the round and sum of a quiet Kerry day!

Underthe sweep of a fell the smoke-reek curls anddriftsWhere a white-walled cottage stands nestling amid the green;Kerry skies above arched with their azure riftsWhere a glint of sun peeps through to brighten the peaceful scene.Cattle stand at graze, and there are the piles of peat,And there is the swift Feale Water rimpling, dimpling away;And there are the cocks of hay, and the smell of the hay is sweet,And this is the round and sum of a quiet Kerry day!

Underthe sweep of a fell the smoke-reek curls anddrifts

Where a white-walled cottage stands nestling amid the green;

Kerry skies above arched with their azure rifts

Where a glint of sun peeps through to brighten the peaceful scene.

Cattle stand at graze, and there are the piles of peat,And there is the swift Feale Water rimpling, dimpling away;And there are the cocks of hay, and the smell of the hay is sweet,And this is the round and sum of a quiet Kerry day!

Cattle stand at graze, and there are the piles of peat,

And there is the swift Feale Water rimpling, dimpling away;

And there are the cocks of hay, and the smell of the hay is sweet,

And this is the round and sum of a quiet Kerry day!

[p53]A KERRY ROADSnowof the blackberry bloom, purple of heatherbells,The fir and the oak tree boughs with the ivy round them twining;Sheen of a distant lake, brown of the dipping fells,Racing clouds overhead, and the fitful sun a-shining!Bracken and thorn and whin, and somewhere a cheeping bird;Pits of peat, and, then, a cart with its cheery load;In from Dingle Bay the wind with its ancient word;On and up and on—and this is a Kerry road!

Snowof the blackberry bloom, purple of heatherbells,The fir and the oak tree boughs with the ivy round them twining;Sheen of a distant lake, brown of the dipping fells,Racing clouds overhead, and the fitful sun a-shining!Bracken and thorn and whin, and somewhere a cheeping bird;Pits of peat, and, then, a cart with its cheery load;In from Dingle Bay the wind with its ancient word;On and up and on—and this is a Kerry road!

Snowof the blackberry bloom, purple of heatherbells,

The fir and the oak tree boughs with the ivy round them twining;

Sheen of a distant lake, brown of the dipping fells,

Racing clouds overhead, and the fitful sun a-shining!

Bracken and thorn and whin, and somewhere a cheeping bird;Pits of peat, and, then, a cart with its cheery load;In from Dingle Bay the wind with its ancient word;On and up and on—and this is a Kerry road!

Bracken and thorn and whin, and somewhere a cheeping bird;

Pits of peat, and, then, a cart with its cheery load;

In from Dingle Bay the wind with its ancient word;

On and up and on—and this is a Kerry road!

[p54]A KERRY GARDENThere’s a garden that slopes to the south and the sun,A garden in Kerry I know,Where the poppy ’s a-bloom, and the red roses runO’er the wall, and the pampas-plume’s streamers seem spunOf the floss of the moon in the dusk watches won,And the lake is a-shimmer below.There ’s a garden that ’s fair, be it day, be it night,A garden in Kerry I know,And never an orient dream of delightCan match with this garden so sweet to my sight,For here is heart’s home to a wanderingwight,—It calls me wherever I go!

There’s a garden that slopes to the south and the sun,A garden in Kerry I know,Where the poppy ’s a-bloom, and the red roses runO’er the wall, and the pampas-plume’s streamers seem spunOf the floss of the moon in the dusk watches won,And the lake is a-shimmer below.There ’s a garden that ’s fair, be it day, be it night,A garden in Kerry I know,And never an orient dream of delightCan match with this garden so sweet to my sight,For here is heart’s home to a wanderingwight,—It calls me wherever I go!

There’s a garden that slopes to the south and the sun,

A garden in Kerry I know,

Where the poppy ’s a-bloom, and the red roses run

O’er the wall, and the pampas-plume’s streamers seem spun

Of the floss of the moon in the dusk watches won,

And the lake is a-shimmer below.

There ’s a garden that ’s fair, be it day, be it night,A garden in Kerry I know,And never an orient dream of delightCan match with this garden so sweet to my sight,For here is heart’s home to a wanderingwight,—It calls me wherever I go!

There ’s a garden that ’s fair, be it day, be it night,

A garden in Kerry I know,

And never an orient dream of delight

Can match with this garden so sweet to my sight,

For here is heart’s home to a wanderingwight,—

It calls me wherever I go!

[p55]DOWN IN KERRYDownin Kerry maids aremerry,Down in Kerry maids are fair;Laughin’ eyes an’ lips o’ cherryFrom FealeWater to Kenmare!Sunny weather in the heather,Sunny weather everywhere,Be but man an’ maid togetherFrom Feale Water to Kenmare!Care a-sheddin’, naught a-dreadin’,With just one my steps to share,That ’s the road that I ’d be treadin’From Feale Water to Kenmare!

Downin Kerry maids aremerry,Down in Kerry maids are fair;Laughin’ eyes an’ lips o’ cherryFrom FealeWater to Kenmare!Sunny weather in the heather,Sunny weather everywhere,Be but man an’ maid togetherFrom Feale Water to Kenmare!Care a-sheddin’, naught a-dreadin’,With just one my steps to share,That ’s the road that I ’d be treadin’From Feale Water to Kenmare!

Downin Kerry maids aremerry,Down in Kerry maids are fair;Laughin’ eyes an’ lips o’ cherryFrom FealeWater to Kenmare!

Downin Kerry maids aremerry,

Down in Kerry maids are fair;

Laughin’ eyes an’ lips o’ cherry

From FealeWater to Kenmare!

Sunny weather in the heather,Sunny weather everywhere,Be but man an’ maid togetherFrom Feale Water to Kenmare!

Sunny weather in the heather,

Sunny weather everywhere,

Be but man an’ maid together

From Feale Water to Kenmare!

Care a-sheddin’, naught a-dreadin’,With just one my steps to share,That ’s the road that I ’d be treadin’From Feale Water to Kenmare!

Care a-sheddin’, naught a-dreadin’,

With just one my steps to share,

That ’s the road that I ’d be treadin’

From Feale Water to Kenmare!

[p56]HOLY WELLSAtToberaribba,Sooth, what do you think,’T is not holy waterThey go for to drink!At Tobernanavin,As sure as you ’re born,There ’s dancing and prancingAnd juice of the corn!At Tobernacerta,They sport on the green;There ’s laughing and chaffing,And lots of poteen!At Tobernaglashy,With moss at the brink,There ’s much holy water,But not for to drink!

AtToberaribba,Sooth, what do you think,’T is not holy waterThey go for to drink!At Tobernanavin,As sure as you ’re born,There ’s dancing and prancingAnd juice of the corn!At Tobernacerta,They sport on the green;There ’s laughing and chaffing,And lots of poteen!At Tobernaglashy,With moss at the brink,There ’s much holy water,But not for to drink!

AtToberaribba,Sooth, what do you think,’T is not holy waterThey go for to drink!

AtToberaribba,

Sooth, what do you think,

’T is not holy water

They go for to drink!

At Tobernanavin,As sure as you ’re born,There ’s dancing and prancingAnd juice of the corn!

At Tobernanavin,

As sure as you ’re born,

There ’s dancing and prancing

And juice of the corn!

At Tobernacerta,They sport on the green;There ’s laughing and chaffing,And lots of poteen!

At Tobernacerta,

They sport on the green;

There ’s laughing and chaffing,

And lots of poteen!

At Tobernaglashy,With moss at the brink,There ’s much holy water,But not for to drink!

At Tobernaglashy,

With moss at the brink,

There ’s much holy water,

But not for to drink!

[p57]LOW TIDEThesun on the reeds an’rushes,An’ the sand outstretched before,An’ the sun on the kelp an’ shingleAway off Galway shore.An’ the sun on the rocks behind me,Bright on the gorse an’ whin,An’ the sun on the slantin’ doriesWith their white sails tackin’ in.Oh, I ’ll be gay o’ the sunlight,Glad of its glint an’ grace,If its beams will only show meThe smile on one sailor’s face!

Thesun on the reeds an’rushes,An’ the sand outstretched before,An’ the sun on the kelp an’ shingleAway off Galway shore.An’ the sun on the rocks behind me,Bright on the gorse an’ whin,An’ the sun on the slantin’ doriesWith their white sails tackin’ in.Oh, I ’ll be gay o’ the sunlight,Glad of its glint an’ grace,If its beams will only show meThe smile on one sailor’s face!

Thesun on the reeds an’rushes,An’ the sand outstretched before,An’ the sun on the kelp an’ shingleAway off Galway shore.

Thesun on the reeds an’rushes,

An’ the sand outstretched before,

An’ the sun on the kelp an’ shingle

Away off Galway shore.

An’ the sun on the rocks behind me,Bright on the gorse an’ whin,An’ the sun on the slantin’ doriesWith their white sails tackin’ in.

An’ the sun on the rocks behind me,

Bright on the gorse an’ whin,

An’ the sun on the slantin’ dories

With their white sails tackin’ in.

Oh, I ’ll be gay o’ the sunlight,Glad of its glint an’ grace,If its beams will only show meThe smile on one sailor’s face!

Oh, I ’ll be gay o’ the sunlight,

Glad of its glint an’ grace,

If its beams will only show me

The smile on one sailor’s face!

[p58]THE “BOHAREEN”1Inthe kingdom they call “Kerry” there ’s a “bohareen” goes climbin’Above the thatch o’ cots atBallymore—A little rovin’ footway—an’ the goat bells keep a-chimin’In the heather slopin’ upward from the shoreFor the slopes are clad with heather, noddin’ heather, purple heather,Where the bees make honey-music in the noon;An’ if you should chance to stray there in a scrap o’ sunny weatherA warbler will be tossin’ you a tune.An’ you can look to seaward through the gray-green gulf o’ wonderAn’ watch the slantin’ sails a-dippin’ far,An’ you can mark about you how the rocks are rent asunder,An’ the heights are mountin’ up to reach the star.[p59]But it ’s not the sea below it, nor the craggy crests above it,Nor the bracken with the mosses soft between,Nor the droopin’ bells o’ heather, nay, it ’s not for these I love it,That wanderin’, that windin’ “bohareen!”But a thought that keeps a-chimin’ in my heart like tender rhymin’Of one who clambered upward from theshore—Whose feet with mine kept timin’ as the pair o’ us went climbin’Long ago that “bohareen” at Ballymore!1“Bohareen,” bypath.

Inthe kingdom they call “Kerry” there ’s a “bohareen” goes climbin’Above the thatch o’ cots atBallymore—A little rovin’ footway—an’ the goat bells keep a-chimin’In the heather slopin’ upward from the shoreFor the slopes are clad with heather, noddin’ heather, purple heather,Where the bees make honey-music in the noon;An’ if you should chance to stray there in a scrap o’ sunny weatherA warbler will be tossin’ you a tune.An’ you can look to seaward through the gray-green gulf o’ wonderAn’ watch the slantin’ sails a-dippin’ far,An’ you can mark about you how the rocks are rent asunder,An’ the heights are mountin’ up to reach the star.[p59]But it ’s not the sea below it, nor the craggy crests above it,Nor the bracken with the mosses soft between,Nor the droopin’ bells o’ heather, nay, it ’s not for these I love it,That wanderin’, that windin’ “bohareen!”But a thought that keeps a-chimin’ in my heart like tender rhymin’Of one who clambered upward from theshore—Whose feet with mine kept timin’ as the pair o’ us went climbin’Long ago that “bohareen” at Ballymore!

Inthe kingdom they call “Kerry” there ’s a “bohareen” goes climbin’

Above the thatch o’ cots atBallymore—

A little rovin’ footway—an’ the goat bells keep a-chimin’

In the heather slopin’ upward from the shore

For the slopes are clad with heather, noddin’ heather, purple heather,Where the bees make honey-music in the noon;An’ if you should chance to stray there in a scrap o’ sunny weatherA warbler will be tossin’ you a tune.

For the slopes are clad with heather, noddin’ heather, purple heather,

Where the bees make honey-music in the noon;

An’ if you should chance to stray there in a scrap o’ sunny weather

A warbler will be tossin’ you a tune.

An’ you can look to seaward through the gray-green gulf o’ wonderAn’ watch the slantin’ sails a-dippin’ far,An’ you can mark about you how the rocks are rent asunder,An’ the heights are mountin’ up to reach the star.

An’ you can look to seaward through the gray-green gulf o’ wonder

An’ watch the slantin’ sails a-dippin’ far,

An’ you can mark about you how the rocks are rent asunder,

An’ the heights are mountin’ up to reach the star.

[p59]But it ’s not the sea below it, nor the craggy crests above it,Nor the bracken with the mosses soft between,Nor the droopin’ bells o’ heather, nay, it ’s not for these I love it,That wanderin’, that windin’ “bohareen!”

[p59]But it ’s not the sea below it, nor the craggy crests above it,

Nor the bracken with the mosses soft between,

Nor the droopin’ bells o’ heather, nay, it ’s not for these I love it,

That wanderin’, that windin’ “bohareen!”

But a thought that keeps a-chimin’ in my heart like tender rhymin’Of one who clambered upward from theshore—Whose feet with mine kept timin’ as the pair o’ us went climbin’Long ago that “bohareen” at Ballymore!

But a thought that keeps a-chimin’ in my heart like tender rhymin’

Of one who clambered upward from theshore—

Whose feet with mine kept timin’ as the pair o’ us went climbin’

Long ago that “bohareen” at Ballymore!

1“Bohareen,” bypath.

[p60]AN IRISH IDYLAsI stood amid the bracken, as I stood amid the fern,I could hear the merry bicker, the blithe bicker of the burn.Bees were hummin’, softly hummin’;“She ’s a comin’! She ’s a comin’!”With a little spurt of laughter called the brook at every turn.“Watch her! watch her! watch her! watch her!” cried a curlew overhead;An’ I knew that it was Norah by the trippin’ of her tread;An’ a gentle wind a croonin’In the silence of thenoonin’—“Dare you kiss her? dare you kiss her?” were the saucy words it said.Sure, it stirred the heart within me, did that tauntin’ of the wind,For the selfsame heart I mentioned was a sort of darin’ kind;When she came within my reachin’There was no pause for beseechin’,For I kissed her, an’ I kissed her, an’, faith, Norah didn’t mind!

AsI stood amid the bracken, as I stood amid the fern,I could hear the merry bicker, the blithe bicker of the burn.Bees were hummin’, softly hummin’;“She ’s a comin’! She ’s a comin’!”With a little spurt of laughter called the brook at every turn.“Watch her! watch her! watch her! watch her!” cried a curlew overhead;An’ I knew that it was Norah by the trippin’ of her tread;An’ a gentle wind a croonin’In the silence of thenoonin’—“Dare you kiss her? dare you kiss her?” were the saucy words it said.Sure, it stirred the heart within me, did that tauntin’ of the wind,For the selfsame heart I mentioned was a sort of darin’ kind;When she came within my reachin’There was no pause for beseechin’,For I kissed her, an’ I kissed her, an’, faith, Norah didn’t mind!

AsI stood amid the bracken, as I stood amid the fern,

I could hear the merry bicker, the blithe bicker of the burn.

Bees were hummin’, softly hummin’;

“She ’s a comin’! She ’s a comin’!”

With a little spurt of laughter called the brook at every turn.

“Watch her! watch her! watch her! watch her!” cried a curlew overhead;An’ I knew that it was Norah by the trippin’ of her tread;An’ a gentle wind a croonin’In the silence of thenoonin’—“Dare you kiss her? dare you kiss her?” were the saucy words it said.

“Watch her! watch her! watch her! watch her!” cried a curlew overhead;

An’ I knew that it was Norah by the trippin’ of her tread;

An’ a gentle wind a croonin’

In the silence of thenoonin’—

“Dare you kiss her? dare you kiss her?” were the saucy words it said.

Sure, it stirred the heart within me, did that tauntin’ of the wind,For the selfsame heart I mentioned was a sort of darin’ kind;When she came within my reachin’There was no pause for beseechin’,For I kissed her, an’ I kissed her, an’, faith, Norah didn’t mind!

Sure, it stirred the heart within me, did that tauntin’ of the wind,

For the selfsame heart I mentioned was a sort of darin’ kind;

When she came within my reachin’

There was no pause for beseechin’,

For I kissed her, an’ I kissed her, an’, faith, Norah didn’t mind!

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