Poems of James Clarence Mangan (Many hitherto uncollected): Centenary edition: Edited, with preface and notes by D. J. O'Donoghue: Introduction by John Mitchel |
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LOVE AND LIGHT. |
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 | Poems of James Clarence Mangan |  |
267
LOVE AND LIGHT.
All who live of Loved and Beauteous,
Sigh to
Think how soon the trellised bowers
Fade away with all their flowers,
While the nightingales, unduteous,
Also fly to
Sing their soulful songs in far lands,
And the wasted Summer dies, with all its odours, hues and garlands.
Sigh to
Think how soon the trellised bowers
Fade away with all their flowers,
While the nightingales, unduteous,
Also fly to
Sing their soulful songs in far lands,
And the wasted Summer dies, with all its odours, hues and garlands.
Sooth to sing, it seems a dreamy
Vision.
Lavishly from silver fountains
Fall diffused o'er lakes and mountains,
Light and Life; when lo! the beamy
Face elysian
Of the heavens is darkened wholly,
And the false enchantress flies, and leaves her dupes to melancholy.
Vision.
Lavishly from silver fountains
Fall diffused o'er lakes and mountains,
Light and Life; when lo! the beamy
Face elysian
Of the heavens is darkened wholly,
And the false enchantress flies, and leaves her dupes to melancholy.
All that blooms but blooms to wither.
Gladly
Would the shrinking foliage flourish,
Would the flowers their petals nourish
In the beams that wander hither;
But too sadly
Sweepeth change; and Flora's garnish
Scarcely pranks her infant minions ere, alas! they droop and tarnish.
Gladly
Would the shrinking foliage flourish,
Would the flowers their petals nourish
In the beams that wander hither;
But too sadly
Sweepeth change; and Flora's garnish
Scarcely pranks her infant minions ere, alas! they droop and tarnish.
268
Love! and art thou fled, Consoler?
Weary
Feels my heart to see returning
Sombre-vested months of mourning,
While the spent year sinks with dolor,
And so dreary
Seem the woods I cannot haunt less,
Even though bare of all their beauty, scentless, rayless, leafless, chauntless.
Weary
Feels my heart to see returning
Sombre-vested months of mourning,
While the spent year sinks with dolor,
And so dreary
Seem the woods I cannot haunt less,
Even though bare of all their beauty, scentless, rayless, leafless, chauntless.
| Poems of James Clarence Mangan | |