If you have revisited the town, thin Shade, Whether
to look upon your monument (I
wonder if the builder has been paid) Or
happier-thoughted when the day is spent To
drink of that salt breath out of the sea When
grey gulls flit about instead of men, And
the gaunt houses put on majesty: Let
these content you and be gone again; For
they are at their old tricks yet. A man Of
your own passionate serving kind who had brought In
his full hands what, had they only known, Had
given their children's children loftier thought, Sweeter
emotion, working in their veins Like gentle blood, has been driven from the place, And
insult heaped upon him for his pains, And
for his open-handedness, disgrace; Your
enemy, an old foul mouth, had set The
pack upon him. Go, unquiet wanderer, And
gather the Glasnevin coverlet About
your head till the dust stops your ear, The
time for you to taste of that salt breath And
listen at the corners has not come; You had enough of sorrow before death — Away, away! You are safer in the tomb. |
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