A SONG OF MEMORY
Here as I sit in the dark and ponder,
Watching the firelight dance and gleam,
What brings them back to my mind, I wonder?
Those old days of laughter and dream.
Dear old days, when we roamed together
All the pathways that cross Slieve Rue,
Caring for naught in the sunny weather,
Laughing together, I and you.
Voice of the west wind, calling, calling,
Sobbing beat of the Irish rain,
Whispering leaves and waters falling,
Ay, and you by my side again;
Out of the past I hear them ringing—
All the songs of the days of old;
Hear the lark on the hillside singing,
See the gleam of the gorse's gold.
Till, as I sit in the firelight dreaming,
Watching the shadows grow apace,
Out of the long dead years comes gleaming
There in the flames your laughing face;
All the days that are past and over
Gone in the turf smoke, curling blue,
And from their wreckage I recover
Song and sunshine and youth and you.
IN MEMORY OF A FAILURE
O Kathaleen ni Houlihan, in blood and ashes lie
The dreams we dreamed, the faith we held, the hopes we builded high;
Once more the path that Emmet trod our bleeding feet must press,
Once more our hearts must bear the load of failure and distress;
But though the dream in ruin fell, yet this much still is true—
O Kathaleen ni Houlihan, at least we died for you.
O Kathaleen ni Houlihan, the hills with Spring are fair,
And fragrant blows the daffodil and violets scent the air,
Once more from out the morning sky the lark's gay challenge rings,
Mounting the blue to Heaven's gate, but not for us he sings,
And summer comes, and autumn tints with bronze and gold the fern,
And bees hum in the heather bloom, but we shall not return.
O Kathaleen ni Houlihan, give us nor praise nor blame,
Only a little Irish dust to cover up our shame;
Only a sod of Irish ground our broken dream to hide,
Where some may pause and say a prayer and "'Twas for her they died;"
For though we brought you grief and pain, yet this much still is true—
O Kathaleen ni Houlihan, at least we died for you.