The Fairy Changeling and Other Poems Part 3

Banagher Rhue, now a queen has won!

(The black c.o.c.k crows with the flash of dawn.) And she is the woman who prays for you: "_Is go d-tigheadh do_, _mhuirnin slan_!"

THE FAIR LITTLE MAIDEN

"There is one at the door, Wolfe O'Driscoll, At the door, who is bidding you come!"

"Who is he that wakes me in the darkness, Calling when all the world's dumb?"

"Six horses has he to his carriage, Six horses blacker than the night, And their twelve red eyes in the shadows Twelve lamps he carries for his light;

"And his coach is a coffin black and mouldy, A huge black coffin open wide: He asks for your soul, Wolfe O'Driscoll, Who is calling at the door outside."

"Who let him thro' the gates of my gardens, Where stronger bolts have never been?"

"'Twas the father of the fair little maiden You drove to her grave so green."

"And who let him pa.s.s through the courtyard, By loosening the bar and the chain?"

"Oh, who but the brother of the maiden, Who lies in the cold and the rain!"

"Then who drew the bolts at the portal, And into my house bade him go?"

"She, the mother of the poor young maiden, Who lies in her youth so low."

"Who stands, that he dare not enter, The door of my chamber, between?"

"O, the ghost of the fair little maiden, Who lies in the churchyard green."

AT CHRISTMAS TIME

For that old love I once adored I decked my halls and spread my board At Christmas time.

With all the winter's flowers that grow I wreathed my room, and mistletoe Hung in the gloom of my doorway, Wherein my dear lost love might stray When joy-bells chime.

What phantom was it entered there And drank his wine and took his chair At Christmas time?

With holly boughs and mistletoe He crowned his head, and at my woe And tears I shed laughed long and loud; "Get back, O phantom! to thy shroud When joy-bells chime."

A WEEPING CUPID

Why love! I thought you were gay and fair, Merry of mien and debonair.

What then means this brow so black, Whose sullen gloom twin eyes give back, Poor little G.o.d in tears, alack!

Why love! I thought in your smiling cheek Dainty dimples played hide and seek; Pa.s.sing by like a winter's night, With stormy sighs from lips all white.

Poor little G.o.d, how comes your plight?

A maiden said you were tall and bold, With an arm of steel and a heart of gold; Whose changing face would make her day; When came a frown, the suns.h.i.+ne play Of smiles would chase the clouds away.

A youth once said you were like a maid With sunny hair in a golden braid; Whose cheeks were each a rose uncurled; And brow a lilybell unfurled; The fairest maid in all the world.

Why love! I find you so weak and small, A human child, not a G.o.d at all; Two angry, sleepy eyes that cry, Two little hands so soft and shy, I'll hush you with a lullaby.

Come, love!

THE LOVER

I go through wet spring woods alone, Through sweet green woods with heart of stone, My weary foot upon the gra.s.s Falls heavy as I pa.s.s.

The cuckoo from the distance cries, The lark a pilgrim in the skies; But all the pleasant spring is drear.

I want you, dear!

I pa.s.s the summer meadows by, The autumn poppies bloom and die; I speak alone so bitterly For no voice answers me.

"O lovers parting by the gate, O robin singing to your mate, Plead you well, for she will hear 'I love you, dear!'"

I crouch alone, unsatisfied, Mourning by winter's fireside.

O Fate, what evil wind you blow.

Must this be so?

No southern breezes come to bless, So conscious of their emptiness My lonely arms I spread in woe, I want you so.

A BIRD FROM THE WEST

At the grey dawn, amongst the felling leaves, A little bird outside my window swung, High on a topmost branch he trilled his song, And "Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!" ever sung.

Take me, I cried, back to my island home; Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings; For my lone spirit wide his pinions spread, And home and home and home he ever sings.

We lingered over Ulster stern and wild.

I called: "Arise! doth none remember me?"

One turned in the darkness murmuring, "How loud upon the breakers sobs the sea!"

We rested over Connaught-whispering said: "Awake, awake, and welcome! I am here."

One woke and s.h.i.+vered at the morning grey; "The trees, I never heard them sigh so drear."

We flew low over Munster. Long I wept: "You used to love me, love me once again!"

They spoke from out the shadows wondering; "You'd think of tears, so bitter falls the rain."

Long over Leinster lingered we. "Good-bye!

My best beloved, good-bye for evermore."

Sleepless they tossed and whispered to the dawn; "So sad a wind was never heard before."