[A. D. 1642.] Up the sea-saddened valley at evening's decline, A heifer walks lowing--"the Silk of the Kine" From the deep to the mountains she roams, and again From the mountain's green urn to the purple-rimmed main. What seek'st thou, sad mother? Thine own is not thine! He dropped from the headland; he sank in the brine! 'Twas a dream! but in dreams at thy foot did he follow Through the meadow-sweet on by the marish and mallow! Was he thine? Have they slain him? Thou seek'st him, not knowing Thyself, too, art theirs, thy sweet breath and sad lowing! Thy gold horn is theirs; thy dark eye and thy silk! And, that which torments thee, thy milk is their milk! 'Twas no dream Mother Land! 'Tis no dream, Innisfail! Hope dreams, but grief dreams not--the grief of the Gael! From Leix and Ikerrin to Donegal's shore, Rolls the drige of thy last and thy bravest--O'More! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LITTLE SON by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 1 by JAMES JOYCE THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MODERN LOVE: 50 by GEORGE MEREDITH AGAMEMNON: HELEN. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS LAMENT OF AROMAITERAI by AROMAITERAI THE TURN OF THE ROAD by JANE BARLOW |