 | Irish Poems |  |
23
THE MIST THAT'S OVER IRELAND
To Ronald Ross
There's a mist that's over Ireland where the blackbird calls,
And when you come it's risin' and when you go it falls.
It's made of green and silver and the rain and dew,
And the finest sun is over it you ever knew.
And when you come it's risin' and when you go it falls.
It's made of green and silver and the rain and dew,
And the finest sun is over it you ever knew.
Och, sure it isn't mist at all, except a mist o' tears,
A haze of love and longin' for the happy years,
When myself that's old and fretted now and colder than the stone
Was young in golden Ireland with the friends long gone.
A haze of love and longin' for the happy years,
When myself that's old and fretted now and colder than the stone
Was young in golden Ireland with the friends long gone.
The mist is like a curtain that the wind'll blow
And lift a little wisp of it till you see below
The shiningest country ever was of hills and streams,
And the people do be haunting you in lonesome dreams.
And lift a little wisp of it till you see below
The shiningest country ever was of hills and streams,
And the people do be haunting you in lonesome dreams.
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The people do be in the mist, their like's hard to find,
Their faces full of welcome and their smile soft and kind.
It was little I was thinkin' in the days that ran away
How I'd sit and break my heart for them one weary day.
Their faces full of welcome and their smile soft and kind.
It was little I was thinkin' in the days that ran away
How I'd sit and break my heart for them one weary day.
It isn't fields and mountains and it isn't streams and trees,
Though all o' them is in the mist, nor hummin' of the bees,
Nor yet the thrush and blackbird could vex me as I stand
And look the way of Ireland with my head in my hand.
Though all o' them is in the mist, nor hummin' of the bees,
Nor yet the thrush and blackbird could vex me as I stand
And look the way of Ireland with my head in my hand.
'Tis little that we value them, when we're gay and young;
We think we'll have them with us, our whole lives long.
We never know the good we have till constant friends depart
And leave us just with half a life and half a heart.
We think we'll have them with us, our whole lives long.
We never know the good we have till constant friends depart
And leave us just with half a life and half a heart.
There's a gold mist over Ireland that for me will never rise,
And some is walkin' in it was the light of my eyes.
They're never old and troubled now, and never sick and sad.
The days we had together were the best I had.
And some is walkin' in it was the light of my eyes.
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The days we had together were the best I had.
Please God, some day that's comin', when the dread of death 's past,
And I take the lonesome valley we all must take at last,
I'll sight the hills of Heaven and the people in white,
And you, and you, among them was my heart's delight.
And I take the lonesome valley we all must take at last,
I'll sight the hills of Heaven and the people in white,
And you, and you, among them was my heart's delight.
The mist that's over Ireland will be blowin' in my face;
I'll reach the other side of it to the well-remembered place,
And I'll not be lookin' backward like a lonesome ghost
From the mist that's over Ireland and the friends I lost.
I'll reach the other side of it to the well-remembered place,
And I'll not be lookin' backward like a lonesome ghost
From the mist that's over Ireland and the friends I lost.
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