THE GREEN DOVE AND THE RAVEN
There was a dove with wings of green,
Glistening o'er so radiantly,
With head of blue and golden sheen,
All sad and wearily
Sitting two red blooms between
On lovely Barna's wild-wood tree.
There was a letter 'neath its wing,
Written by a fair ladye,
Safely bound with silken string
So light and daintily,
And in that letter was a ring,
On lovely Barna's wild-wood tree.
There was a raven, black and drear,
Stained with blood all loathsomely,
Perched upon the branches near,
Croaking mournfully,
And he said, "O dove, what bring'st thou here
To lovely Barna's wild-wood tree?"
"I'm coming from a ladye gay,
To the young heir of sweet Glenore,
His ring returned, it is to say
She'll never love him more,—
Alas the hour! alas the day! —
By murmuring Funcheon's fairy shore."
"O dove, outspread thy wings of green;
I'll guide thee many a wild-wood o'er;
I'll bring thee where I last have seen
The young heir of Glenore,
Beneath the forest's sunless screen,
By murmuring Funcheon's fairy shore."
O'er many a long mile did they flee,
The dove, the raven stained with gore,
And found beneath the murderer's tree
The young heir of Glenore,—
A bloody, ghastly corpse was he,
By murmuring Funcheon's fairy shore.
"Go back, go back, thou weary dove,—
To the cruel maid tell o'er and o'er,
He's death's and mine, her hate or love
Can never reach him more—
To his ice-cold heart in Molagga's grove,
By murmuring Funcheon's fairy shore."
——R. D. Joyce.