« PreviousContinue »
THE THREE FISHERS.
Three fishers went sailing out into the West,
Out into the West as the sun went down ; Each thought of the woman who loved him
the best, And the children stood watching them out of
the town ; For men must work, and women must weep, And there's little to earn, and many to keep, . Though the harbour-bar be moaning.
Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,
down, And they looked at the squall, and they looked
at the shower, And the rack it came rolling up, ragged and
brown; But men must work, and women must weep, Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
And the harbour-bar be moaning.
Three corpses lay out on the shining sands,
In the morning gleam, as the tide went down, And the women are watching and wringing
their hands, For those who will never come home to the
town. But men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep, And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.
LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT.
I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side
When first you were my bride :
And the lark sang loud and high-
And the love-light in your eye.
The place is little changed, Mary,
The day is bright as then,
And the corn is green again ;
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your breath, warm on my cheek, And I still keep list'nin' for the words . You never more will speak.
'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near,
I see the spire from here.
And my step might break your restFor I've laid you, darling, down to sleep
With your baby on your breast.
I'm very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends, But, oh! they love the better still,
The few our Father sends !
My blessin' and my pride :
Since my poor Mary died.
Your's was the good, brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on, When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm's young strength was gone ; There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your browI bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you cannot hear me now.
I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to break, When the hunger pain was gnawin' there,
And you hid it, for my sake !
When your heart was sad and sore--
Where grief can't reach you more !
I'm biddin' you a long farewell,
My Mary-kind and true ! But I'll not forget you, darling!
In the land I'm goin' to; They say there's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always thereBut I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair !
And often in those grand old woods
I'll sit, and shut my eyes,
To the place where Mary lies;
And I'll think I see the little stile
Where we sat side by side :
Oh, shattered idols, framed of fragile glass, We thought were jewels ! Yet the day may
come When every fragment which lies shattered now May turn to sapphires in the land of rest. We raise a palace through a waste of years, And think its walls are crystal in the sun Of this world's glory, flashing for an hour. We look again, and see it was but ice Which we have dwelt in, thawing fast awayAt every burning grasp it melts the more. Blessed be he who leaves the treacherous hope And into heavenly crystal turns the thaw.