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8o THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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JOSEPH BRENAN (1828-1857)
COME TO ME, DEAREST
C
OME to me, dearest, I'm lonely without thee; Day-time and night-time I'm thinking about thee; Night-time and day-time in dreams I behold thee, Unwelcome the waking that ceases to fold thee. Come to me, darling, my sorrows to lighten, Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten, Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly, Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy.
Swallows shall flit round the desolate ruin, Telling of spring and its joyous renewing; And thoughts of thy love, and its manifold treasure, Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure; O Spring of my spirit! O May of my bosom ! Shine out on my soul till it burgeon and blossom — The waste of my life has a rose-root within it, And thy fondness alone to the sunshine can win it.
Figure that moves like a song through the even — Features lit up by a reflex of heaven — Eyes like the skies of poor Erin, our mother, Where sunshine and shadows are chasing each other; Smiles coming seldom, but childlike and simple, And opening their eyes from the heart of a dimple — O thanks to the Saviour that even thy seeming Is left to the exile to brighten his dreaming 1 |
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