 | The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien |  |
THE POT OF GOLD.
The sun flung wide its golden arms
Above the dripping woods of Maine,
And wove across the misty sky
The seven-dyed ribbon of the rain.
Above the dripping woods of Maine,
And wove across the misty sky
The seven-dyed ribbon of the rain.
An old wife at the cottage door
Sat with her grandson by her knee,
And watched the rainbow belt the clouds
And span the world from sea to sea.
Sat with her grandson by her knee,
And watched the rainbow belt the clouds
And span the world from sea to sea.
Then, in that quiet evening hour,
The wondering boy a tale she told,—
How he who sought the rainbow's foot
Would find beneath a pot of gold.
The wondering boy a tale she told,—
How he who sought the rainbow's foot
Would find beneath a pot of gold.
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The eager boy drank in the tale,—
His eyes were filled with feverish fire;
And in his fluttering heart there leaped
A wild, impulsive, vague desire.
His eyes were filled with feverish fire;
And in his fluttering heart there leaped
A wild, impulsive, vague desire.
And as the gorgeous sun went down,
And from the skies the mists were rolled,
He stole with hurrying step away
To seek the wondrous pot of gold.
And from the skies the mists were rolled,
He stole with hurrying step away
To seek the wondrous pot of gold.
Through lonesome woods with whispering leaves,
That sung an endless forest hymn,
Where shadowy cat-birds wailed unseen,
And squirrels leaped from limb to limb,—
That sung an endless forest hymn,
Where shadowy cat-birds wailed unseen,
And squirrels leaped from limb to limb,—
By rivers thundering to the sea,
By ragged hill and gloomy glen,
Through swamps where slept the sluggish air,
And by the pleasant homes of men,—
By ragged hill and gloomy glen,
Through swamps where slept the sluggish air,
And by the pleasant homes of men,—
The strange boy wandered night and day,
His eyes still filled with quenchless fire;
While still within his heart there grew
That wild, impulsive, vague desire.
His eyes still filled with quenchless fire;
While still within his heart there grew
That wild, impulsive, vague desire.
Men marvelled as he passed them by
With weary step and lagging pace;
And women, as they saw him, sighed
In pity for his childlike face.
With weary step and lagging pace;
And women, as they saw him, sighed
In pity for his childlike face.
And many asked why thus he went
O'er hill and flood, through heat and cold;
While he the steadfast answer made,
“I go to seek the pot of gold.”
O'er hill and flood, through heat and cold;
While he the steadfast answer made,
“I go to seek the pot of gold.”
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And then they smiled, and told the boy
That many a youth that quest had tried,
And some had fainted by the way,
And all had failed, and most had died.
That many a youth that quest had tried,
And some had fainted by the way,
And all had failed, and most had died.
For never had the mystic goal
By any human foot been trod;
The secret of the rainbow's base
Was known but to its builder—God.
By any human foot been trod;
The secret of the rainbow's base
Was known but to its builder—God.
He heard, but heeded not: his eyes
Were fixed upon the horizon's brim.
What mattered to him others' fate,—
'T was not the fate in store for him.
Were fixed upon the horizon's brim.
What mattered to him others' fate,—
'T was not the fate in store for him.
And still the rainbow came and went,
And scarf-like hung about the sun;
And still the seeker's restless soul
Sang of the treasure to be won.
And scarf-like hung about the sun;
And still the seeker's restless soul
Sang of the treasure to be won.
So went the time—till one dark day,
When flesh and blood could bear no more,
Haggard and pale he fainting fell
Close by the well-known cottage door.
When flesh and blood could bear no more,
Haggard and pale he fainting fell
Close by the well-known cottage door.
With quivering lips he told his tale;
The pitying tears above him fell;
Once more around his couch he heard
The voices that he loved so well.
The pitying tears above him fell;
Once more around his couch he heard
The voices that he loved so well.
And soon a modest, mild-eyed man,
With quiet tones, stood at his side,
Telling a sweet, entrancing tale
Of One who suffered and who died;—
With quiet tones, stood at his side,
Telling a sweet, entrancing tale
Of One who suffered and who died;—
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And talked about a treasure, too,
Through pain and suffering to be won,
That lay beyond the rainbow arch,—
Ay, and beyond the parent sun.
Through pain and suffering to be won,
That lay beyond the rainbow arch,—
Ay, and beyond the parent sun.
As the boy heard the simple words,
From out his eyes the fierce fire fled,
And straight an unseen presence wove
A calmer splendor round his head.
From out his eyes the fierce fire fled,
And straight an unseen presence wove
A calmer splendor round his head.
And so his young life ebbed away;
His heart was still, his limbs were cold;
But by the smile upon his face
They knew he 'd found the pot of gold!
His heart was still, his limbs were cold;
But by the smile upon his face
They knew he 'd found the pot of gold!
| The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien | |