Imleabhar: CBÉ 0485 (Cuid 2)

Ar an leathanach seo

1. In Memoriam (ar lean)

   

   Roinn Roinn Postáil

   (ar lean ón leathanach roimhe)

   7.
   Ah! The day comes aye when silver chord is broke,
   When golden fillet shrinks upon the brow,
   When the pitcher at the fountain's crushed by hazard stroke,
   And the dust returns to its mother earth below;
   When the spirit loosed ascends above,
   Borne on the wings of ardent love,
   To the God who gave her life.

   The hope was mine that when our day was done
   We arm in arm should slowly journey home;
   And gazing calmly on the setting sun
   Oft wistful speak of the Empyrean Dome,
   Whence issues that celestial light
   Which ne'er shall be observed by night
   Or setting know no more.

   But now before the noontide of our day
   Behold thee summoned sudden from my side:
   And I (if Heaven decrees that I should stay
   To guard and watch my flock till eventide)
   When my evening star's pale glimmering light
   Shall warn me of the approach of night,
   Must grope alone my way.

   
   Timothy Hurley

   

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   • Timothy Hurley