Imleabhar: CBÉ 0485 (Cuid 2)
- Dáta
- 1938
- Bailitheoir
- Suíomh
Ar an leathanach seo
- (ar lean ón leathanach roimhe)Deny them that longing, destroy that lov'd care, And life is a terror--"the woodland of Weir." Wherever I wander, o'er mountain or foam -- 'Neath temples Ionie, huge arches, or dome-- Let the eve of epistence behold me at home.
- The wind that blows so carelessly across life's stormy plain To some brings joy and happiness, to others grief and pain; To some it comes like music's voice borne on the midnight sill, But gentle breeze and storm alike to me are bleak and chill.
And zephyrs thro' declining years while sweeping oer the sea, To some bring barques with shining sails but shattered wrecks to me, And when I heard the music that would cheer me on my way The storm came on like vengining sprite and blew it all away. Con. -page 90(leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)