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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 163 |
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DANIEL CONNOLLY (1836-1890)
COMPENSATION
Y
ES, the years are passing quickly; months seem days and days but hours. Gloom is o'er us, dearth around us, ere we've gathered summer's flowers. And the swiftly changing seasons, sped by time's unÂwearied wing, Mingle suns and snows together, hastening on from spring to spring.
'Twas not so, my friend and comrade, when to us the world was new,
Then the fields were ever blooming and the skies were always blue;
And a yearning spirit filled us to leave youth behind and stand
Firm on manhood's highway, scanning all the promÂised golden land.
Ah, those years of wistful dreaming ! Had we known
what things should be In the future's plains and valleys, on its surging,
storm-beat sea, Would desire have spurred us onward, from the simple
ways which then Blossomed round us, to the thorn-set paths that tire
the feet of men ? |
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