With the Wild Geese By Emily Lawless: With An Introduction by Stopford A. Brooke |
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“WHEN BEACHED STREAMS”
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 | With the Wild Geese |  |
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“WHEN BEACHED STREAMS”
SONG
When beached streams run thick and slow,
And efts upclimb, with oozy slime,
And only marish blossoms blow,
Then sounds the merry hunting horn.
Blow! blow! the merry hunting horn.
And efts upclimb, with oozy slime,
And only marish blossoms blow,
Then sounds the merry hunting horn.
Blow! blow! the merry hunting horn.
When all the ways are dark and brown,
And not a bird uplifts its strain,
And leaves come circling slowly down,
Then starts the merry hunting train.
Blow! blow! the merry hunting train.
And not a bird uplifts its strain,
And leaves come circling slowly down,
Then starts the merry hunting train.
Blow! blow! the merry hunting train.
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When rain-drops stand on every ledge,
And all forlorn, the forests mourn,
And daily starker grows the hedge,
Then comes the merry hunting time,
Blow! blow! the merry hunting time.
And all forlorn, the forests mourn,
And daily starker grows the hedge,
Then comes the merry hunting time,
Blow! blow! the merry hunting time.
When Time the gold with grey replaces,
And mocks with scorn the hues of morn,
And thins the long-remembered faces,
Then sounds the merry hunting horn,
Blow! blow! the merry hunting horn.
And mocks with scorn the hues of morn,
And thins the long-remembered faces,
Then sounds the merry hunting horn,
Blow! blow! the merry hunting horn.
| With the Wild Geese | |