 | Songs of Killarney |  |
173
AUTUMN DIRGE.
Fallen with the fallen leaf!
All the woods are bowed with grief,
And the sky, without relief,
O'er the earth with tears replieth.
We are also bowed with grief,
And from tears have no relief:
Death is on our aged chief;
Dumb and motionless he lieth.
All the woods are bowed with grief,
And the sky, without relief,
O'er the earth with tears replieth.
We are also bowed with grief,
And from tears have no relief:
Death is on our aged chief;
Dumb and motionless he lieth.
Now the earth all beauty scorning,
With no blooms her breast adorning,
Wrapped in cypress robes is mourning
For the summer's lost delight;
Thus, no coloured garb adorning,
We are clad in darkest mourning;—
Swift of Stroke and Wise of Warning,
Thou hast robbed our limbs of light.
With no blooms her breast adorning,
Wrapped in cypress robes is mourning
For the summer's lost delight;
174
We are clad in darkest mourning;—
Swift of Stroke and Wise of Warning,
Thou hast robbed our limbs of light.
| Songs of Killarney | |