Read Ebook: Haapaniemen hanhenpoika: Huvi-näytelmä yhdessä näytöksessä by Bayard Jean Fran Ois Alfred Friedrich W Lemoine Gustave T Rm Nen C Edv Translator

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Ebook has 476 lines and 13472 words, and 10 pages

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

O little, lilting birdeen, cease! You stab my heart with every strain Bringing me back old memories Of days that will not come again.

THE WILD GEESE

O pleasant are the fields of France, her vine-clad hills aglow, And broad and smooth her rivers are, as singing on they go,-- Durance and Seine and Loire and Rhone--but not for us they flow.

And sweetly on a Frenchman's ear the songs of France may ring, But not for us their melody who still amid their swing The sobbing beat alone can hear of songs we used to sing.

For, as the streams of Babylon, though broad and fair they swept, Were waters of captivity, whereby the Hebrews wept, Dreaming of dear Jerusalem, where their forefathers slept--

So dreaming by the waves of France we think on Sion too, Heartsick with longing for the streams we and our fathers knew-- Liffey and Lee and Avonmore and tawny Avondhu.

And turning homeward yearning eyes that ne'er shall see her strand, We tune our harps and strike once more the chords with faltering hand, And sing again the song of home, far in a lonely land.

"If we forget Jerusalem!" Ah, well we know the song-- Our waters of captivity, bitter their waves and strong, And faint our hearts for weariness, how long, O Lord, how long?

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.

THE UNCHRISTENED CHILD

Alanna! Alanna! within the churchyard's round There's many graves of childer' there, they lie in holy ground; But yours is on the mountain side beneath the hawthorn tree-- O fleet one, my sweet one, that's gone so far from me.

Alanna! Alanna! When that small mound was made, No mass was sung, no bell was rung, no priest above it prayed; Unchristened childer's souls, they say, may ne'er see Heaven's light-- O lone one, my own one, where strays your soul to-night?

Alanna! Alanna! This life's a weary one, And there's little time for thinking when the hours of work are done, And the others have forgotten, but there's times I sit apart, O fair one, my dear one, and hold you in my heart.

Alanna! Alanna! If I were Mary mild, And heard outside the gates of Heaven a little crying child, What though its brow the chrisom lacked, I'd lift the golden pin, O bright one, my white one, and bid you enter in.

Alanna! Alanna! The mountain side is bare, And the winds they do be blowing and the snows be lying there, And unchristened childer's souls, they say, may ne'er see Heaven's light-- O lone one, my own one, where strays your soul to-night?

TO AUDREY, AGED FOUR

Light feet, white feet, dancing down the ways, Spilling out the honey from the flowery days, May your paths forever flowery be and sweet, Stony roads of sorrow wait not for your feet.

Light feet, white feet, as you older grow, Fain are we to keep you from all care and woe; But if thorn and brier in your roadway be, Light feet, white feet, meet them merrily.

Light feet, white feet, as you dance along, God, Who made you, keep you free from stain of wrong, Give you song and sunshine, laughter, love and praise, Light feet, white feet, dancing down the ways.

A LULLABY

Little brown feet, that have grown so weary, Plodding on through the heat of day, Mother will hold you, mother will fold you Safe to her breast; little feet, rest; Now is the time to cease from play.

Little brown hands, that through day's long hours Never rested, be still at last; Mother will rest you; come, then, and nest you Here by her side, nestle and hide; Creep to her heart and hold it fast.

Little brown head, on my shoulder lying, Night is coming and day is dead; Mother will sing you songs, that shall bring you Childhood's soft sleep, quiet and deep; Sweet be your dreams, O dear brown head.

O LITTLEST HANDS AND DEAREST

O littlest hands and dearest, O golden heads and bright, From out what dear dream country Come you to me to-night? For through the shadows falling I hear your voices calling Out of the magic spaces Of infinite delight.

I see your curls a-glimmer, I see your dear eyes shine, I feel the childish fingers Slipped softly into mine; You bring me back the May-time, The old, delightful play-time When all the world was laughter And life seemed half divine.

Thus, from the shades that gather Around my path to-night Your glad child-hands have drawn me Back to your lands of light, Giving me for my sadness The medicine of your gladness, O littlest hands and dearest, O golden heads and bright.

A LOVE SONG

Love came to me once more, His wings all drenched with rain; Silent his singing lips, His eyes were dark with pain.

Dead roses in his hands-- Gone were the flowers of yore; Only a poor, grey ghost, Love lingered at my door.

Wasted his rounded limbs And grey his golden hair-- Poor, shadowy, silent God, Who once had been so fair.

"O Love, great Love," I cried, "Why come you thus to me?" "I am Love's ghost," he said; "Men name me Memory."

A SONG OF LOVE

Love came loitering down the way, Laughter light in his eyes there lay, Music was on his tongue; "Stay, Love, stay--walk with us, pray!

Love with us goes wandering still, Suns may shine, or the rains beat chill, What matter cold or heat? Blue or grey, Love goes our way;

Love, he has been a comrade true, Joy and Sorrow have found us too, Greeted and passed us by; So Love stay, they may go their way;

DEAD LOVE

Fold the hands, grown still and cold; Lay ye by The broken bow that shall feel his hold Nevermore, while the seasons fly. Draw the shroud above his eyes, Love, that laughs an hour and dies.

Seek no more to entrance win At his gate; Silent now are the song and din, Jest and dance, that were there of late. Never more shall he arise, Love, that laughs an hour and dies.

Listen not, for ye shall catch Nevermore The sound of his finger on the latch, Nor see him stand in the open door; Ne'er shall see, in any guise, Love, that laughs an hour and dies.

THE WIFE FROM THE SEA

I snatched her from her home away-- From her great waters, cool and free, My sea-maid, in whose eyes there lay The depths and dangers of the sea.

I brought her where faint breezes sweep Through lanes walled in with hedges high, And sown with luscious grass and deep At ease the fatted pastures lie.

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