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462 THE GOLDEN TREJSURr OF |
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My heart is breaking, Alanna, but I mustn't tell
you so For I see by your dark, dark sorrow, that your own
poor heart is low. I thought I'd bear it better, to cheer you on your way; But, Achorra I achorra ! you're going, and I'll soon
be in the clay ! .
God's blessing be with you, Shemus—sure, you'll come
back again, VVhen your curls of brown are snowy, to rest with your
mother then; Down in the green old churchyard, where the tree's
dark shadows fall — Asthorach ! in the strangers' land you couldn't sleep
at all!
THE MOON BEHIND THE HILL
THE KILKENNY EXILE'S CHRISTMAS SONG
I
WATCHED last night the rising moon Upon a. foreign strand, Till memories came, like flowers of June, Of home and fatherland; I dreamt I was a child once more
Beside the rippling rill, Where first I saw in days of yore The moon behind the hill.
It brought me back the visions grand That purpled boyhood's dreams;
Its youthful loves, its happy land, As bright as morning's beams. |
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