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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 59 |
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MICHAEL JOSEPH BARRY (1817-1889)
THE PLACE WHERE MAN SHOULD DIE
H
OW little recks it where men lie, When once the moment's past In which the dim and glazing eye Has looked on earth its last,— Whether beneath the sculptured urn
The Coffined form shall rest, Or in its nakedness return Back to its mother's breast!
Death is a common friend or foe,
' As different men may hold, And at his summons each must go,
The timid and the bold; But when the spirit, free and warm,
Deserts it, as it must, What matter where the lifeless form
Dissolves again to dust?
The soldier falls 'mid corses piled
Upon the battle-plain, Where reinless war-steeds gallop wild
Above the mangled slain; But though his corse be grim to see,
Hoof-trampled on the sod, What recks it, when the spirit free
Has soared aloft to God ? |
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