Pipe to us once again, lest we forget
What piping means, till all the Silver Spears
Be wild with gusty music, such as met
Carolan once, amid the dusty years.
Dance in your rings again: the yellow weeds
You used to ride so far, mount as of old—
Play hide-and-seek with wind among the reeds,
And pay your scores again with fairy gold.
My Grief on the Sea.
DOUGLAS HYDE
My grief on the sea,
How the waves of it roll!
For they heave between me
And the love of my soul!
Abandoned, forsaken,
To grief and to care,
Will the sea ever waken
Relief from despair?
My grief, and my trouble!
Would he and I wear,
In the province of Leinster,
Or County of Clare.
Were I and my darling—
O, heart-bitter wound!—
On the board of the ship
For America bound.
On a green bed of rushes
All last night I lay,
And I flung it abroad
With the heat of the day.
And my love came behind me—
He came from the South;
His breast to my bosom
His mouth to my mouth.