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474 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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RORY OF THE HILL
" r I *»HAT rake up near the rafters, Why leave it there so long ? The handle, of the best ash,
Is smooth and straight and strong; And, mother, will you tell me,
Why did my father frown When to make the hay, in summer-time
I climbed to take it down ? " She looked into her husband's eyes,
While her own with light did fill, " You'll shortly know the reason, boy! "
Said Rory of the Hill.
The midnight moon is lightning up
The slopes of Sliav-na-man,— Whose foot affrights the startled hares
So long before the dawn ? He stopped just where the Anner's stream
Winds up the woods anear, Then whistled low and looked around
To see the coast was clear. The sheeling door flew open —
In he stepped with right good-will — "God save all here and bless your work,"
Said Rory of the Hill.
Right hearty was the welcome
That greeted him, I ween, For years gone by he fully proved
How well he loved the Green ; And there was one amongst them
Who grasped him by the hand — |
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