 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
I. THE SHADOW OF A DREAM
O! sorrowful dream of the past
That dissolved in the morn's magic ray,
Why again is thy grey shadow cast
Like a false, fairy mist o'er my way?
That dissolved in the morn's magic ray,
Why again is thy grey shadow cast
Like a false, fairy mist o'er my way?
Yet the war-ships ride on through the bay
With the King's flag aflame from each mast.
Oh! Liberty, when shall thy day
Light the pale brows of Erin at last?
With the King's flag aflame from each mast.
Oh! Liberty, when shall thy day
Light the pale brows of Erin at last?
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |