George Cosbuc Poems

This life is a lost boon if you
Don't live it as you wanted to!
Much would a warlike, ruthless foe
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From sunny countries and skies blue
From which last autumn-tide you flew,
Return, dear birds, where you belong,
Most welcome, you!
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A soul in the soul of my people am I
And sing of its sorrows and joys,
For mine are your wounds and I cry
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Your burnt offspring's smoke will wind
Peacefully towards the skies
Only if you bear in mind
That when you go to the sun,
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He had three sons and they, all three,
When called, for the encampment left;
So the poor father was bereft
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I'm hungry, naked, homeless, through,
Because of loads I had to carry;
You've spat on me, and hit me - marry,
A dog I've been to you !
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Home walked she from the mill
Her sack was down and she
Could not lift it again.
'May I help?' 'What?' 'For pay!'
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Her shoulders with fair braids are graced,
Lithe as the wheat-stem is her waist,
Her sable apron laced with taste -
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