 | Irish Poems |  |
34
REPROACH
To Father Russell
When I came back to Ireland 'twas little I knew
The sorrow was waiting for me in the good year's gloam.
You who were always tender, was it kind of you
To be up and going your lonesome road and I barely come?
The sorrow was waiting for me in the good year's gloam.
You who were always tender, was it kind of you
To be up and going your lonesome road and I barely come?
It was not like you, O kindest one, to go in such haste!
Barely to say “You are welcome home” and then to be gone.
A little glance and a word of love, and you stepping fast
Over the brink of the Autumn world after the sun.
Barely to say “You are welcome home” and then to be gone.
A little glance and a word of love, and you stepping fast
Over the brink of the Autumn world after the sun.
If I had known, O kindest one, and I full of joy!
How soon my land would be empty of you, losing your light,
Could I have come, singing my songs, like a girl or a boy,
And the black desolation beyond and the wintry night?
How soon my land would be empty of you, losing your light,
Could I have come, singing my songs, like a girl or a boy,
And the black desolation beyond and the wintry night?
35
That was the one unkindness you showed me, my dear;
And I so glad of the mountains and fields and the friends of old:
For you to be turning your back on me in my wonderful year,
Taking the light and comfort with you, leaving me cold.
And I so glad of the mountains and fields and the friends of old:
For you to be turning your back on me in my wonderful year,
Taking the light and comfort with you, leaving me cold.
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