I woke, warmed ’neath a foreign sky
Where locust blossoms bud and die,
Strange birds called to me flashing by.
And dusky faces passed and woke
The echoes with the words they spoke—
—The same old tales as other folk.
A truce to roaming! Never more
I’ll leave the home I loved of yore.
But strangers meet me at the door.
* * * * *
I left my home still travelling,
For yet I hear the strange birds sing,
And foreign flowers rare perfumes bring.
I hear a distant voice, more wise
Than others are ’neath foreign skies.
I’ll find—perhaps in paradise.
THE BALLAD OF THE FAIRY THORN-TREE
This is an evil night to go, my sister,
To the fairy-tree across the fairy rath,
Will you not wait till Hallow Eve is over?
For many are the dangers in your path!
I may not wait till Hallow Eve is over,
I shall be there before the night is fled,
For, brother, I am weary for my lover,
And I must see him once, alive or dead.
I’ve prayed to heaven, but it would not listen,
I’ll call thrice in the devil’s name to-night,
Be it a live man that shall come to hear me,
Or but a corpse, all clad in snowy white.