 | Louise de la Valliaere and other poems |  |
41
THE DEAD PATRIOT.
THE LATE A. M. SULLIVAN.
Sunday, October 19, 1884.
All the morn the wan, white mist is creeping
Round the fair, grey city, and the rain
Falls unceasing, the wild clouds are weeping
Tears of pain.
Round the fair, grey city, and the rain
Falls unceasing, the wild clouds are weeping
Tears of pain.
Pain is in the air; the year is dying—
Pain is on the faces of the crowd;
One, the country's well-beloved, is lying
In his shroud.
Pain is on the faces of the crowd;
One, the country's well-beloved, is lying
In his shroud.
Just without the city's noise and clamour,
From its fret and turmoil set apart,
He is lying in a lighted chamber,
The true heart!
From its fret and turmoil set apart,
He is lying in a lighted chamber,
The true heart!
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With his thin hands folded from their reaping,
And the clear peace on the brave, dead face,
That hath gained, it seems, in this pale sleeping,
Some new grace.
And the clear peace on the brave, dead face,
That hath gained, it seems, in this pale sleeping,
Some new grace.
Out of doors the dreary rain is streaming
On the marred gold of the autumn leaves,
And the fair wide fields no longer gleaming
With the sheaves.
On the marred gold of the autumn leaves,
And the fair wide fields no longer gleaming
With the sheaves.
On the kindly shamrocks that to-morrow
Shall be pillow to the good, grey head,
These shall fold him—he shall know no sorrow,
Being dead.
Shall be pillow to the good, grey head,
These shall fold him—he shall know no sorrow,
Being dead.
Two days since his feet were set for heaven,
Strong, and pure, and great, and free from strife—
Unto God and kin and country given
The white life.
Strong, and pure, and great, and free from strife—
Unto God and kin and country given
The white life.
To all noble things devoted solely,
So he strays in fields of asphodel—
Underneath the smile of God most holy
Faring well.
So he strays in fields of asphodel—
Underneath the smile of God most holy
Faring well.
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A while since, when life was near its ending,
Like strong angels' swords, his grand words came—
Christ's fair honour holding and defending,
And His name.
Like strong angels' swords, his grand words came—
Christ's fair honour holding and defending,
And His name.
O! be sure the dear Lord came to meet him!
This true knight who did His cause espouse,
Bending down, with glad, sweet words, to greet him
To His house.
This true knight who did His cause espouse,
Bending down, with glad, sweet words, to greet him
To His house.
Here on earth some lonely hearts are bursting
With the stress of agony and pain,
Just for one word from the dead lips thirsting,
And in vain.
With the stress of agony and pain,
Just for one word from the dead lips thirsting,
And in vain.
Did this trouble him in his long dying,
Thoughts of his fair, noble wife's despair,
Echoes of his little children crying?
God will care.
Thoughts of his fair, noble wife's despair,
Echoes of his little children crying?
God will care.
Peace, dear heart! be not disturbed in heaven,
Keep the joy-light still upon your brow—
These, your own beloved on Thursday even,
Ireland's now.
Keep the joy-light still upon your brow—
These, your own beloved on Thursday even,
Ireland's now.
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Ah, our exile! what strange prescience taught you
To come back, and seek your mother's breast,
To your own wild, lovely country brought you
For your rest?
To come back, and seek your mother's breast,
To your own wild, lovely country brought you
For your rest?
When you came to us this last dead summer,
With the laughing winds and sapphire sky,
Could we tell we welcomed our home-comer
Just to die?
With the laughing winds and sapphire sky,
Could we tell we welcomed our home-comer
Just to die?
If we saw the guest that came beside you,
Underneath the happy sky of blue—
If we guessed what fate would soon betide you,
If we knew!
Underneath the happy sky of blue—
If we guessed what fate would soon betide you,
If we knew!
If we only knew your way was wending
To that country, lonely and apart,
To what fair, new path your feet were tending!
Loyal heart!
To that country, lonely and apart,
To what fair, new path your feet were tending!
Loyal heart!
We had not let you go from us unheeding—
We had prayed our hearts out for your stay,
Kissed your hands with tears of love and pleading,
True alway!
We had prayed our hearts out for your stay,
Kissed your hands with tears of love and pleading,
True alway!
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