I have old women's secrets now
That had those of the young;
Madge tells me what I dared not think
When my blood was strong,
OUT-WORN heart, in a time out-worn,
Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight,
Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.
GOD guard me from those thoughts men think
In the mind alone;
He that sings a lasting song
Thinks in a marrow-bone;
MAY God be praised for woman
That gives up all her mind,
A man may find in no man
A friendship of her kind
He. Dear, I must be gone
While night Shuts the eyes
Of the household spies;
That song announces dawn.
BRING me to the blasted oak
That I, midnight upon the stroke,
(All find safety in the tomb.)
May call down curses on his head
Because of my dear Jack that's dead.
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity,
AH, that Time could touch a form
That could show what Homer's age
Bred to be a hero's wage.
SWEETHEART, do not love too long:
I loved long and long,
And grew to be out of fashion
Like an old song.
BEAUTIFUL lofty things: O'Leary's noble head;
My father upon the Abbey stage, before him a raging crowd:
'This Land of Saints,' and then as the applause died out,
'Of plaster Saints'; his beautiful mischievous head thrown back.