SILENT, O Moyle, be the roar of thy water, Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose, While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter Tells to the night-star her tale of woes. When shall the swan, her death-note singing, Sleep, with wings in darkness furled? When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, Call my spirit from this stormy world? Sadly, O Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping, Fate bids me languish long ages away; Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping, Still doth the pure light its dawning delay. When will that day-star, mildly springing, Warm our isle with peace and love? When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, Call my spirit to the fields above? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DISCRETE LOVE POEM by JAMES GALVIN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? by PAUL VERLAINE EUROPE A PROPHECY by WILLIAM BLAKE THE SCRIBE by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE O, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME! by THOMAS MOORE A FUNERAL CHANT FOR THE OLD YEAR by E. JUSTINE BAYARD |