 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE FIRST WINTER SONG
Take my tidings!
Stags contend;
Snows descend—
Summer's end!
Stags contend;
Snows descend—
Summer's end!
A chill wind raging;
The sun low keeping,
Swift to set
O'er seas high sweeping.
The sun low keeping,
Swift to set
O'er seas high sweeping.
Dull red the fern;
Shapes are shadows;
Wild geese mourn
O'er misty meadows.
Shapes are shadows;
Wild geese mourn
O'er misty meadows.
Keen cold limes each weaker wing.
Icy times—
Such I sing!
Take my tidings!
Icy times—
Such I sing!
Take my tidings!
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |