 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
FAR AWAY FROM HER SCORNING
In the wan, mistful morning to Ocean's wild gales
Afar from her scorning I loose my black sails;
For my kiss was scarce cold on her cheek when she turned
And my love for the gold of a renegade spurned.
Afar from her scorning I loose my black sails;
For my kiss was scarce cold on her cheek when she turned
And my love for the gold of a renegade spurned.
Under cloud chill and pallid, while hollow winds moan,
Lies, alas! our green-valleyed, purple-peaked Innishowen;
For as if my sad case she were sharing to-day,
All her glory and grace she hides weeping away.
Lies, alas! our green-valleyed, purple-peaked Innishowen;
For as if my sad case she were sharing to-day,
All her glory and grace she hides weeping away.
Farewell, Lake of Shadows! Buncrana, farewell
To your thymy sea-meadows, your fern-fluttering dell!
Adieu, Donegal! o'er the waters death-wan,
Under Heaven's heavy pall, like a ghost I am gone.
To your thymy sea-meadows, your fern-fluttering dell!
Adieu, Donegal! o'er the waters death-wan,
Under Heaven's heavy pall, like a ghost I am gone.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |