 | Twilight Songs |  |
48
THE EXILE.
Amid the honey-dews of the Sussex country—
All night the nightingale is never still—
Under the flooding moon her heart keeps sentry
Over flocks and pastures on an Irish hill.
All night the nightingale is never still—
Under the flooding moon her heart keeps sentry
Over flocks and pastures on an Irish hill.
By the Mayo cabins, white-winged, gold-crested
Her free spirit wanders till the night is gone,
Safe and warm the children there like young birds nested
Glides she by the peat-water, so still, so lone.
Her free spirit wanders till the night is gone,
Safe and warm the children there like young birds nested
Glides she by the peat-water, so still, so lone.
Keen are the winds o'er the brown bogs blowing,
Poised in the arching sky an eagle broods,
Oh, she was stifled in the lusty growing
Starved for the great winds and the lashing floods!
Poised in the arching sky an eagle broods,
Oh, she was stifled in the lusty growing
Starved for the great winds and the lashing floods!
Oh, she was thirsting still in garden and forest
For the bareness, the bleakness and the rushing rain!
In the rich Summer night her heart was sorest
Crying for the fields she knew, crying in vain.
For the bareness, the bleakness and the rushing rain!
In the rich Summer night her heart was sorest
Crying for the fields she knew, crying in vain.
49
Now in the deep of night ere day is breaking
Loud calls the nightingale from hill to hill,
But she is far away her hunger slaking
Oh, she is well-content: she drinks her fill.
Loud calls the nightingale from hill to hill,
But she is far away her hunger slaking
Oh, she is well-content: she drinks her fill.
Back from the grey house by the lapping water
She must be travelling ere the peep of day
Yet when the sleep is here, Oh Ireland's daughter!
Who shall constrain free feet that know the way?
She must be travelling ere the peep of day
Yet when the sleep is here, Oh Ireland's daughter!
Who shall constrain free feet that know the way?
| Twilight Songs | |