AT the grey dawn, amongst the falling leaves, A little bird outside my window swung, High on a topmost branch he trilled his song, And "Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!" ever sung. "Take me," I cried, "back to my island home; Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings"; For my lone spirit wide his pinions spread, And "Home" and "Home" and "Home" he ever sings. We lingered over Ulster stern and wild. I called: "Arise! doth none remember me?" One turnèd in the darkness murmuring, "How loud upon the breakers sobs the sea!" We rested over Connaught—whispering said: "Awake, awake, and welcome! I am here." One woke and shivered at the morning grey: "The trees, I never heard them sigh so drear." We flew low over Munster. Low I wept: "You used to love me, love me once again!" They spoke from out the shadows wondering: "You'd think of tears, so bitter falls the rain." Long over Leinster lingered we. "Goodbye! My best beloved, goodbye for evermore." Sleepless they tossed and whispered to the dawn: "So sad a wind was never heard before." Was it a dream I dreamt? For yet there swings In the grey morn a bird upon the bough, And "Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!" ever sings. Oh! fair the breaking day in Ireland now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REINFORCEMENTS by MARIANNE MOORE THE EARLY MORNING by HILAIRE BELLOC ANOTHER SPRING by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI COLUMBUS [AUGUST 3, 1492] by JOHANN CHRISTOPH FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER A QUESTION by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |