Volume: CBÉ 0485 (Part 2)

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1. Winter

   

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   Thick falls the snows, keen blow the winds,
   The moon is on her aerial plane,
   And whistling darts the sea-gull by
   As screams she by the heaving main.
   And thro' the snows I see the stars
   Gay gild their far allotted span;
   The kine in sheds breathe deep and free,
   And nothing sadly seems but _ man!

   The winter's lightning darts high flit
   To brighter make the starry blue;
   Alone I gaze thro' memry's fiels
   And long its first lov'd scenes to view,
   But mem'ry! why disturb the calm
   Oblivion wreathes around the soul?
   Why wake the past or present scorn -
   Should this be life's unchanging goal?

   (continues on next page)

   

   Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.

   History Edit

   Item type

   Lore

   Language

   Béarla

   Writing mode

   Handwritten

   Writing script

   Roman script

   Informant

   • John J. Walsh