Leave the little villages, o’er the black sea go, Learn the stranger’s welcome, learn the exile’s woe, Leave the little villages, but think not to forget, Afar they’ll rise before your eyes to rack your bosoms yet. Moneymore, Moneygall, Monivea and Moyne, Mullinahone, Mullinavatt, Mullagh and Mooncoin, Shanagolden, Shanballymore, Stranorlar and Slane, Toberaheena, Toomyvara, Tempo and Strabane. On the Southern Llanos,--north where strange light gleams, Many a yearning exile sees them in his dreams; Dying voices murmur (passed all pain and care), “Lo, the little villages, God has heard our prayer.” Lisdoonvarna, Lissadil, Lisdargan, Lisnaskea, Portglenone, Portarlington, Portumna, Portmagee, Clondalkin and Clongowan, Cloondara and Clonae, God bless the little villages and guard them night and day! THE SOUL OF KARNAGHAN BUIDHE BY JAMES B. DOLLARD It was the soul of Karnaghan Buidhe Left his lips with a groan. Like arrowy lightning bolt released It sprang to the Judgment throne. Spoke the Judge: “For as many years As the numbered drops of the sea I grant you heaven--but thenceforth hell, Your bitter lot shall be.” Prayed the soul of Karnaghan Buidhe (_The trembling soul of Karnaghan Buidhe_) “Dear Lord, who died on Calvary, Too brief that span of heaven for me.” Then spoke the Lord: “For as many years As numbered sands on the shore, The joys of heaven I give--but thence You’ll see my face no more.” Pleaded the soul of Karnaghan Buidhe (_The shuddering soul of Karnaghan Buidhe_) “Blessed Lord who died on the shameful tree, Too brief that span of heaven for me.” Once more the Judge: “The blades of grass That earth-winds ever blew A year of heaven I’ll count for each Till hell shall yawn for you.” Prayed the soul of Karnaghan Buidhe (_The anguished soul of Karnaghan Buidhe_) “Kind Lord, who died in agony, Too brief that spell of heaven for me. But this I ask, O Christ--a year Of hell for each of these: The blades of grass, the grains of sand, The drops that make the seas! And after this, sweet Lord, with Thee In heaven for all eternity!” Spoke the Judge, and His smile of love Gladdened the waiting choir above: “Sin and sorrow forever past, Heaven I grant you, first and last!” THE ANGELIC CHORUS BY D. J. DONAHOE At midnight from the zenith burst a light More radiant and more beautiful than dawn, And the meek shepherds on the shadowy lawn Gazed upward in mute wonder on the sight; The stars sank back in pallor, and the skies Trembled responsive to rich harmonies.