A Prayer in Time of War
Whence comes the rain that ceaselessly doth fall,
And seems to hold the bitter taste of tears?
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There is a shadow on the head I love,
There is a danger lurks thy path upon,
It murmurs low as coos the mating dove,
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I come from a burial;
Hush! let me be
I have put away my love,
Fair exceedingly.
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Blossomed too soon, little daisies of Spring!
Leaving the sheltering arms of the earth,
The white tears of Winter unshed in the sky,
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'There's a hound at the door, Shawn O'Farrell,
There's a hound at the door.
If you take down the bar or the shutter,
I shall see you no more,
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I drew her out of the wave
High up on the windy shore.
Oh, never a fish I caught
So fair in my net before.
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I had loved the pretty birds that by my window sung—
The gentle thrush that had his nest the perfumed pines among;
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I know of a thrush's nest, a pretty nest, a cosy nest,
I know of a thrush's nest with three fine eggs of blue;
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Sweet Content, at the rich man's gate,
Called, 'Wilt thou let me in?'
'No! thou art poor and thou art not great,
Hast nothing thy way to win.
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WHAT is balm for a soul distressed, O! sailor tell to me ?
“A good ship in a fighting wind glad of an angry sea.
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