'The heart-haunted home of the ever-faithful Gael.' AT Lisnamaine, since thither he comes no more, 'Tis but a-dream he sees where, little and lone, The rough grey house sits like a boulder-stone Fast by the foam-rimmed murmuring of the shore. Only beyond black shadow across the floor Yet glimmers red, as many a year agone, More precious flame than ever bickering shone From diamond's dew, or ruby's fiery core. And, Mary Mother, grant yon light may burn At Lisnamaine till this poor son's return; Or if in sooth he must not here behold The bliss he counts long exile days to earn, Ah, lest too late his dear hope's doom he learn, Let so his eyes be dark, his heart be cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EARLY MORNING by HILAIRE BELLOC MY MOTHER by WILLIAM BELL SCOTT IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 1 by ALFRED TENNYSON TIPPERARY: 3. AS THE INTERLINEARS MIGHT TAKE IT FROM XENOPHON by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE BIRTHDAY CROWN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1824-1911) A DIALOGUE (TO BE SUNG TO THE VIOL, BY A BASE, AND A TREBLE) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT HAYMAKERS' SONG, FR. KING RENE'S HONEYMOON by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |