Whisper it not that late in years Sorrow shall fade and the world be brighter, Life be freed of tremor and tears, Heads be wiser and hearts be lighter. Ah! but the dream that all endears, The dream we sell for your pottage of truth--- Give us again the passion of youth, Sorrow shall fade and the world be brighter. The Invasion Spring, they say, with his greenery Northward marches at last, Mustering thorn and elm; Breezes rumour him conquering, Tell how Victory sits High on his glancing helm. Smit with sting of his archery, Hardest ashes and oaks Burn at the root below: Primrose, violet, daffodil, Start like blood where the shafts Light from his golden bow. Here where winter oppresses us Still we listen and doubt, Dreading a hope betrayed: Sore we long to be greeting him, Still we linger and doubt "What if his march be stayed?" Folk in thrall to the enemy, Vanquished, tilling a soil Hateful and hostile grown; Always wearily, warily, Feeding deep in the heart Passion they dare not own--- So we wait the deliverer; Surely soon shall he come, Soon shall his hour be due: Spring shall come with his greenery, Life be lovely again, Earth be the home we knew. Pereunt Et Imputantur (After Martial) Bernard, if to you and me Fortune all at once should give Years to spend secure and free, With the choice of how to live, Tell me, what should we proclaim Life deserving of the name? Winning some one else's case? Saving some one else's seat? Hearing with a solemn face People of importance bleat? No, I think we should not still Waste our time at others' will. Summer noons beneath the limes, Summer rides at evening cool, Winter's tales and home-made rhymes, Figures on the frozen pool--- These would we for labours take, And of these our business make. Ah! but neither you nor I Dare in earnest venture so; Still we let the good days die And to swell the reckoning go. What are those that know the way, Yet to walk therein delay? Felix Antonius (After Martial) To-day, my friend is seventy-five; He tells his tale with no regret; His brave old eyes are steadfast yet, His heart the .lightest heart alive. He sees behind him green and wide The pathway of his pilgrim years; He sees the shore, and dreadless hears The whisper of the creeping tide. For out of all his days, not one Has passed and left its unlaid ghost To seek a light for ever lost, Or wail a deed for ever done. So for reward of life-long truth He lives again, as good men can, Redoubling his allotted span With memories of a stainless youth. Ireland, Ireland Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland, Down thy valleys green and sad, Still thy spirit wanders wailing, Wanders wailing, wanders mad. Long ago that anguish took thee, Ireland, Ireland, green and fair, Spoilers strong in darkness took thee, Broke thy heart and left thee there.