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Ebook has 476 lines and 13472 words, and 10 pages

The Little Dog-Angel Shule Aroon A Song Of Erin The Road Across Slieve Rue To W. B. Yeats A Fairy Tale The King of Erin's Daughter Kitty O'Neil Spring in the City The Wild Geese A Song of Memory In Memory of a Failure The Unchristened Child To Audrey, Aged Four A Lullaby O Littlest Hands and Dearest A Love Song A Song of Love Dead Love The Wife from the Sea A Storm at Night Kitty's Feet The Port o' Missing Ships The Ride of the Shadows Ghosts Our Lady of Darkness Daluan Dead--and Living The Master of Shadows Diane au Bois The Red Horse The Adventurers The Watcher of the Threshold The Grey Rider Joan the Maid Newbury Town A Christmas Hymn The Shepherds' Song A Christmas Carol De Profundis The Cry of the Damned Our Lady of Remembrance Maid Mary The Two Crowns A Sparrow in Church Sea-Gulls My Dog and I Snowdrops Spring October Wind October In Arcadie James Whitcomb Riley The Sandman The Remittance Men The Last Voyage Ballade of Dreams Ships of Old Renown Sea-Song The Sea-Wind My Philosophy Easter, 1917 "Home Thoughts from Abroad" The Kaiser Captains Adventurous Drake's Drum Our Dead New Year's Eve, 1916 To Ireland's Dead A Song Of Exile The Air-Men The Defeated The Gentlemen of Oxford

SPUN-YARN AND SPINDRIFT

THE LITTLE DOG-ANGEL

High up in the courts of Heaven to-day A little dog-angel waits, With the other angels he will not play, But he sits alone at the gates; "For I know that my master will come," says he: "And when he comes, he will call for me."

He sees the spirits that pass him by As they hasten towards the throne, And he watches them with a wistful eye As he sits at the gates alone; "But I know if I just wait patiently That some day my master will come," says he.

And his master, far on the earth below, As he sits in his easy chair, Forgets sometimes, and he whistles low For the dog that is not there; And the little dog-angel cocks his ears, And dreams that his master's call he hears.

And I know, when at length his master waits Outside in the dark and cold For the hand of Death to ope the gates That lead to those courts of gold, The little dog-angel's eager bark Will comfort his soul in the shivering dark.

SHULE AROON

Fair are the fields of Canada, and broad her rivers flow, But my heart's away from Canada to seek the hills I know, Far, far away o'er billows grey, where western breezes sweep, And--it's not the songs of Canada go sounding through my sleep.

Shule, shule, shule, aroon, Shule go soccair, agus shule go cuain, Shule, shule, shule, aroon, Sgo Dhae tu, mavourneen, slan.

Along the sides of old Slieve Dhu again my footstep falls, Again the turf smoke rises blue, again the cuckoo calls, Once more adown the mountain brown the brown bog-waters leap-- Oh how the croon of "Shule aroon" goes sounding through my sleep!

Shule, shule, shule, aroon, Shule go soccair, agus shule go cuain, Shule, shule, shule, aroon, Sgo Dhae tu, mavourneen, slan.

Oh 'tis I am here in Canada, far, far across the foam, And many years and many tears divide me from my home; But still above the Irish hills the stars their watches keep, And--it's not the songs of Canada go sounding through my sleep.

Shule, shule, shule, aroon, Shule go soccair, agus shule go cuain, Shule, shule, shule, aroon, Sgo Dhae tu, mavourneen, slan.

A SONG OF ERIN

Far to westward in the sunset tall and bare her cliffs arise, Mother Erin, with the tender love and laughter in her eyes, Looking out across the waters, dreaming of her argosies.

Argosies that sail forever, laden down with hopes and fears, Ships of dream, returning never, though she waits throughout the years, Waits, with eyes wherein the laughter grows more sorrowful than tears.

One by one her children leave her--stalwart sons and daughters fair, Straining eyes grown dim with anguish as her hilltops melt in air; Bending from her cliffs she watches, drinking deep of their despair.

Yet she showers her gifts upon them--gifts of laughter and of tears; Gives their eyes the Vision Splendid, fairy music to their ears, Weaves around their feet her magic--spells that strengthen through the years,

So her children, unforgetting, howsoe'er their footsteps roam, Turn their hearts forever westward, longing for the day to come When once more they see her stooping from her heights to call them home.

THE ROAD ACROSS SLIEVE RUE

As I went down to Dublin town The road across Slieve Rue, I met a maid in crimson gown; Her little feet were bare and brown, She looked at me, she laughed at me With eyes of watchet blue.

No mortal maid was half so fair, Or half so dainty sweet; The sun was tangled in her hair, And O her feet were brown and bare; I laid the very heart of me Before those dancing feet.

"O go you down to Dublin quay To sail upon the Bay? I pray you, gentle sir," said she, "To turn and walk a mile with me." So witching were the eyes of her I could not say her nay.

She gave to me a ring of gold, And kisses, two and three; She sang me elfin songs of old, She lured my heart into her hold, Then turned and left me lonely there-- A wicked witch was she.

TO W. B. YEATS

A wind of dreams comes singing over sea From where the white waves kiss the shores of home, Bringing upon its rainbow wings to me Glimpses of days gone by-- Of wastes of water, where the sea-gulls cry Above the sounding foam.

Or through the mists do Finn and Usheen ride, With all their men, along some faery shore, While Bran and Sgeolan follow at their side Adown the shadowy track, Till in the sunset Caoilte's hair blows back And Niamh calls once more.

Or the brown bees hum through the livelong day In glades of Inisfree, where sunlight gleams, The bean flower scents again the dear old way, Once more the turf-fire burns; The memory of the long dead past returns Borne on that wind of dreams.

A FAIRY TALE

With sword at side, on his charger good, The King's son of Erin Into the depths of the dark, green wood Forward was faring; Golden-armoured and golden-curled, Faith, the sweetest song in the world His heart was hearing!

Onward he rode, with heart elate; Gaily he sought her-- She, the Princess to be his mate, The great King's daughter, Jewelled fingers and golden crown, Slim young body and eyes as brown As the brown bog-water.

On he rode through a laughing land: The ways grew wider, There stood a cottage close at hand, And there he spied her-- O but her feet were brown and bare, And brown were her curls, as she stood there With her geese beside her.

Alas! for the Princess, proud and slim, The great King's daughter; We'll trust she wasted no thought on him, For he straight forgot her, Forgot her jewels and golden crown, For the goose-girl's laughing eyes were brown As the brown bog-water.

Then straightway down from his steed he sprang And bent above her; O sweet were the songs the breezes sang Across the clover; But what the words he said in her ear, Since none but her geese were by to hear, I can't discover.

THE KING OF ERIN'S DAUGHTER

The King of Erin's daughter had wind-blown hair and bright, The King of Erin's daughter, her eyes were like the sea.

The King of Erin's daughter went up the mountain side, And who but she was singing as she went upon her way? "O somewhere waits a King's son, and I shall be his bride; And tall he is, and fair he is, and none shall say him nay."

The King of Erin's daughter Went laughing up the mountain without a look behind, Till on the lofty summit that lay beneath her feet She found a King's son waiting there, his brows with poppies twined.

O tall was he and fair was he. He looked upon her face And whispered in her ear a word unnamed of mortal breath, And very still she rested, clasped close in his embrace, The King of Erin's daughter, for the bridegroom's name was Death.

KITTY O'NEIL

O a bit of a dance in an Irish street-- Hogan was there, and Hennessy, Many a colleen fair and sweet, And Kitty O'Neil she danced with me; Kitty O'Neil, with eyes of brown, And feet as light as the flakes o' snow. Was it last year, O Kitty aroon, Or was it a hundred years ago?

Hogan is out on a Texan plain, Hennessy fell in Manila fight, And I--I am back in New York again In my old arm-chair at the Club to-night; And Kitty O'Neil--the snow lies white On the turf above her across the sea, And stranger colleens are dancing light Where Kitty O'Neil once danced with me.

O the Antrim glens and the thrushes' song, And the hedges white with blossoming may, Many a colleen tripping along, But none so fair as the one away: "Musha, God save you!" I to them say, "God save you kindly!" they answer me; I shiver and wake, in the dawning grey, And Kitty O'Neil lies over the sea.

O a bit of a dance in an Irish street-- Hogan was there, and Hennessy, Many a colleen fair and sweet, And Kitty O'Neil she danced with me; Kitty O'Neil, with eyes of brown, And feet as light as the flakes of snow. Was it last year, O Kitty aroon, Or was it a hundred years ago?

SPRING IN THE CITY

Outside my garret window, set Amid the city's dust and blare, One bit of green is growing yet-- A gnarled old hawthorn tree stands there

A little bird sings in its bough, Where may-buds break as white as foam; It breaks my heart to hear him now, For O, he sings the songs of home.

His wings are of the hodden grey, A little lilting thing is he; He pipes a carol blythe and gay; But sad the thoughts he brings to me.

Once more the Irish hills rise green, The lark springs to the sun once more, Once more I tread the old boreen And see you at the cabin door.

The young May moon her cresset burns In misty skies of Irish blue, And for an hour my spirit turns From dreary streets to dream of you

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