Songs and Poems by George Sigerson With an Introduction by Padraic Colum |
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THE CHURCH OF THE APPLE TREE
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 | Songs and Poems by George Sigerson |  |
THE CHURCH OF THE APPLE TREE
In Penal Times
Alone within a lonely glen,
Still stands the flowering Apple Tree,
Beloved of birds, revered by men,
The haunt of many a bee.
Still stands the flowering Apple Tree,
Beloved of birds, revered by men,
The haunt of many a bee.
56
From heathy hills, a living brook
Soft-singing comes by night and day,
Then goes, with farewell lilt and look,
Its far sea-seeking way.
Soft-singing comes by night and day,
Then goes, with farewell lilt and look,
Its far sea-seeking way.
This is the Temple Beautiful
Where our forefathers kneeling prayed
Though Death ran near, yet dutiful
They worshipped undismayed.
Where our forefathers kneeling prayed
Though Death ran near, yet dutiful
They worshipped undismayed.
The years recede: and now a sun,
More youthful than the star we know,
Has touched with light the summits dim—
The Hills of Long Ago.
More youthful than the star we know,
Has touched with light the summits dim—
The Hills of Long Ago.
Now Shadows through the shadowy Vale
Come silent round from far and near,
And through the twilight silence pale
The priest's low voice we hear.
Come silent round from far and near,
And through the twilight silence pale
The priest's low voice we hear.
“Introibo—I will go
Unto the Altar of my God”—
It stands beneath the branches low
A grey rock on the sod.
Unto the Altar of my God”—
It stands beneath the branches low
A grey rock on the sod.
“To God”—quick comes the answer back—
“Who maketh my youth glad!” they cry:
Their feet may tread the felon's track
Their hearts are lifted high.
“Who maketh my youth glad!” they cry:
Their feet may tread the felon's track
Their hearts are lifted high.
57
The lark shoots up—a thrill of love!
The sweet-toned robin softly calls,
And from the flowery dome above
A shower of fragrance falls.
The sweet-toned robin softly calls,
And from the flowery dome above
A shower of fragrance falls.
The seasons pass, the summer's spent
The frozen leaves drop, dead and sere;
Through wailing woods the winds lament
The waning of the year.
The frozen leaves drop, dead and sere;
Through wailing woods the winds lament
The waning of the year.
Now snow-flakes shroud the Apple Tree,
But through its branching bars,
Those kneeling there, look up and see
The shining midnight stars.
But through its branching bars,
Those kneeling there, look up and see
The shining midnight stars.
“Come, O ye Faithful! gladly sing”—
What reck they now of storm or swords—
“Good tidings of great joy we bring
This day was born our Lord!”
What reck they now of storm or swords—
“Good tidings of great joy we bring
This day was born our Lord!”
The Angels answer from the sky—
Their white wings guard the lonely glen—
“O glory unto God on High
And Peace on Earth to Men!”
Their white wings guard the lonely glen—
“O glory unto God on High
And Peace on Earth to Men!”
The scenes recede: the visions pass;
Hate dies as dies a darksome pest,
And still love flowers above the grass
Where our forefathers rest.
Hate dies as dies a darksome pest,
And still love flowers above the grass
Where our forefathers rest.
| Songs and Poems by George Sigerson | |