Ballads of Peace in War [8]
it happened on a creeping train,
How a play began without a word,--
Peekaboo reflections in a window-pane,
Such a story-hour was never heard.
Aileen and her brother, strangers were to me;
They were friendly for the cloth I wore;
And through leagues of window, youthful play could see
We were friends to be for evermore.
So we passed the hamlets, passed the miles of night
In a fairyland of silent games,
Till the travel ended in the Worcester light,--
Yet we parted, strangers in our names.
38
On a Train
But a fortnight later, by an autumn tree,
Aileen and her brother came my way,
And another, glad to tell the names of them and me,
And to hear how travellers can play.
Life is but a journey, say we evermore,
Passing lights the years have, like a train;
Three good friends will travel up to heaven's door,
With the world a merry window-pane.
39
THE COLUMBINE
Gray lonely rocks about thee stand,
Ignored of sun and dew,
Yet is thy breath upon the land,
To thy vocation true.
So come they character to me
That works in sunless ways,
And I shall learn to give with thee
Dark hills a constant praise.
40
TWO SEANICHIES
(For Aedh)
'Tis the queerest trade we have, the two of us that go about,
I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings,
We to tell the story of a Land you ought to know about,--
The wonder land of Erin and the memories it brings.
Sure it is a wonder land, richer than the books it is,
Full of magic stories and a hopeful heart of song;
Faith, and near the mountains and the sunny lakes and brooks it is,
Like the olden seanichies, the pair of us belong.
Far and broad our journeyin' , up and down the land we go,
Today among the mountains and tomorrow by the sea;
Pleasant are the roads with us, and to a welcome grand we go,
Erin wins the heart of you, whoever you may be.
Erin's heart will capture you, if you will but listen now,
Great she was afore the Danes and all her Saxon foes,
After that the sorrows came, sure your eyes will glisten now,
Up, my lad, and sing for them "The Dark Little Rose."
Rest awhile and I will tell the fame of Tara's Hall to them,
All the deeds of valor and a thousand scenes of joy,
Wicklow hills and Derry fields where Killarney calls to them.
Come, my lad, it's Ninety-Eight and sing "The Croppy Boy."
Long ago the stranger came and learned to love the ways of her,
Irish more than Irish the Norman foe became;
Sure and here across the sea you give your hearts to praise of her,
The tear and smile within her eyes that ever are the same.
Not for gold or little fame the two of us to go about,
I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings,
We to win your love for her, the Land you're glad to know about,
The wonder land of Erin and the memories it brings.
41
THE GREEN BRIGADE
ON THE FIELD OF CORN
Where is the war ye march unto,
>From the early tents of morn?
And what are the deeds ye hope to do,
Brave Grenadiers of Corn?
Pearls of the dew are on your hair,
And the jewels of morning light,
Pennants of green ye fling to the air,
And the tall plumes waving bright.
Gaily away and steady ye go,
Never a faltering line:
Forward! I follow and try to know
Word of your countersign:
Hist! The spies of the tyrant sun
Eagerly watch your plan,
Lavish with bribes of gold, they run
Down to your outmost man.
Steady, good lads, go bravely on
By the parching hills of pain,
An armor of shade ye soon may don
And meet the allies of rain:
And night in the bivouac hours will sing
Praise of the march ye made,
And into your pockets good gold will bring,
Men of the Green Brigade.
Yea, and upon September's field,
When the long campaign is done,
With arms up-stacked, your hearts will yield
Conquest of rain and sun:
The pennants and plumes will then be sere,
Your pearls
How a play began without a word,--
Peekaboo reflections in a window-pane,
Such a story-hour was never heard.
Aileen and her brother, strangers were to me;
They were friendly for the cloth I wore;
And through leagues of window, youthful play could see
We were friends to be for evermore.
So we passed the hamlets, passed the miles of night
In a fairyland of silent games,
Till the travel ended in the Worcester light,--
Yet we parted, strangers in our names.
38
On a Train
But a fortnight later, by an autumn tree,
Aileen and her brother came my way,
And another, glad to tell the names of them and me,
And to hear how travellers can play.
Life is but a journey, say we evermore,
Passing lights the years have, like a train;
Three good friends will travel up to heaven's door,
With the world a merry window-pane.
39
THE COLUMBINE
Gray lonely rocks about thee stand,
Ignored of sun and dew,
Yet is thy breath upon the land,
To thy vocation true.
So come they character to me
That works in sunless ways,
And I shall learn to give with thee
Dark hills a constant praise.
40
TWO SEANICHIES
(For Aedh)
'Tis the queerest trade we have, the two of us that go about,
I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings,
We to tell the story of a Land you ought to know about,--
The wonder land of Erin and the memories it brings.
Sure it is a wonder land, richer than the books it is,
Full of magic stories and a hopeful heart of song;
Faith, and near the mountains and the sunny lakes and brooks it is,
Like the olden seanichies, the pair of us belong.
Far and broad our journeyin' , up and down the land we go,
Today among the mountains and tomorrow by the sea;
Pleasant are the roads with us, and to a welcome grand we go,
Erin wins the heart of you, whoever you may be.
Erin's heart will capture you, if you will but listen now,
Great she was afore the Danes and all her Saxon foes,
After that the sorrows came, sure your eyes will glisten now,
Up, my lad, and sing for them "The Dark Little Rose."
Rest awhile and I will tell the fame of Tara's Hall to them,
All the deeds of valor and a thousand scenes of joy,
Wicklow hills and Derry fields where Killarney calls to them.
Come, my lad, it's Ninety-Eight and sing "The Croppy Boy."
Long ago the stranger came and learned to love the ways of her,
Irish more than Irish the Norman foe became;
Sure and here across the sea you give your hearts to praise of her,
The tear and smile within her eyes that ever are the same.
Not for gold or little fame the two of us to go about,
I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings,
We to win your love for her, the Land you're glad to know about,
The wonder land of Erin and the memories it brings.
41
THE GREEN BRIGADE
ON THE FIELD OF CORN
Where is the war ye march unto,
>From the early tents of morn?
And what are the deeds ye hope to do,
Brave Grenadiers of Corn?
Pearls of the dew are on your hair,
And the jewels of morning light,
Pennants of green ye fling to the air,
And the tall plumes waving bright.
Gaily away and steady ye go,
Never a faltering line:
Forward! I follow and try to know
Word of your countersign:
Hist! The spies of the tyrant sun
Eagerly watch your plan,
Lavish with bribes of gold, they run
Down to your outmost man.
Steady, good lads, go bravely on
By the parching hills of pain,
An armor of shade ye soon may don
And meet the allies of rain:
And night in the bivouac hours will sing
Praise of the march ye made,
And into your pockets good gold will bring,
Men of the Green Brigade.
Yea, and upon September's field,
When the long campaign is done,
With arms up-stacked, your hearts will yield
Conquest of rain and sun:
The pennants and plumes will then be sere,
Your pearls