Poems of James Clarence Mangan (Many hitherto uncollected): Centenary edition: Edited, with preface and notes by D. J. O'Donoghue: Introduction by John Mitchel |
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 | III. |
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THE NIGHT IS FALLING. |
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 | Poems of James Clarence Mangan |  |
156
THE NIGHT IS FALLING.
The night is falling in chill December,
The frost is mantling the silent stream,
Dark mists are shrouding the mountain's brow;
My soul is weary: I now
Remember
The days of roses but as a dream.
The frost is mantling the silent stream,
Dark mists are shrouding the mountain's brow;
My soul is weary: I now
Remember
The days of roses but as a dream.
The icy hand of the old Benumber,
The hand of Winter is on my brain,
I try to smile, while I inly grieve:
I dare not hope or believe
That Summer
Will ever brighten the earth again.
The hand of Winter is on my brain,
I try to smile, while I inly grieve:
I dare not hope or believe
That Summer
Will ever brighten the earth again.
So, gazing gravewards, albeit immortal,
Man cannot pierce through the girdling Night
That sunders Time from Eternity,
Nor feel this death-vale to be
The portal
To realms of glory and Living Light.
Man cannot pierce through the girdling Night
That sunders Time from Eternity,
Nor feel this death-vale to be
The portal
To realms of glory and Living Light.
| Poems of James Clarence Mangan | |