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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PARNELL, by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: The wail of irish winds | |||
The wail of Irish winds, The wail of Irish winds, The cry of Irish seas: The cry of Irish seas: Eternal sorrow finds Eternal sorrow finds Eternal voice in these. Eternal voice in these. I cannot praise our dead, Whom Ireland weeps so well: I cannot praise our dead, Her morning light, that fled; Whom Ireland weeps so well: Her morning star, that fell. Her morning light, that fled; She of the mournful eyes Her morning star, that fell. Waits, and no dark clouds break: Waits, and her strong son lies Dead, for her holy sake. She of the mournful eyes Her heart is sorrow's home. Waits, and no dark clouds break: And hath been from of old: Waits, and her strong son lies An host of griefs hath come, Dead, for her holy sake. To make that heart their fold. Ah, the sad autumn day, When the last sad troop came Her heart is sorrow's home, Swift down the ancient way, And hath been from of old: Keening a chieftain's name! An host of griefs hath come, Gray hope was there, and dread; To make that heart their fold. Anger, and love in tears: They mourned the dear and dead, Dirge of the ruined years. Ah, the sad autumn day, Home to her heart she drew When the last sad troop came The mourning company: Swift down the ancient way, Old sorrows met the new, Keening a chieftain's name! In sad fraternity. A mother, and forget? Nay! all her children's fate Gray hope was there, and dread; Ireland remembers yet, Anger, and love in tears: With love insatiate. They mourned the dear and dead, She hears the heavy bells: Dirge of the ruined years. Hears, and with passionate breath Eternally she tells A rosary of death. Home to her heart she drew Faithful and true is she, The mourning company: The mother of us all: Old sorrows met the new, Faithful and true! may we In sad fraternity. Fail her not, though we fall. Her son, our brother, lies Dead, for her holy sake: A mother, and forget? But from the dead arise Nay! all her children's fate Voices, that bid us wake. Ireland remembers yet, Not his, to hail the dawn: With love insatiate. His but the herald's part. Be ours to see withdrawn Night from our mother's heart. She hears the heavy bells: Hears, and with passionate breath Eternally she tells A rosary of death. Faithful and true is she, The mother of us all: Faithful and true! may we Fail her not, though we fall. Her son, our brother, lies Dead, for her holy sake: But from the dead arise Voices, that bid us wake. Not his, to hail the dawn: His but the herald's part. Be ours to see withdrawn Night from our Mother's heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHURCH OF A DREAM; TO BERNHARD BERENSON by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON A FRIEND by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON CELTIC SPEECH by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON ENTHUSIASTS by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON FRIENDS: 4 by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON HILL AND VALE by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON LOVE'S WAYS by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON MYSTIC AND CAVALIER by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON |
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