I will arise and go hence to the west,
And dig me a grave where the hill-winds call;
But O were I dead, were I dust, the fall
Of my own love's footstep would break my rest!
My heart in my bosom is black as a sloe!
I heed not cuckoo, nor wren, nor swallow:
Like a flying leaf in the sky's blue hollow
The heart in my breast is, that beats so low.
Because of the words your lips have spoken,
(O dear black head that I must not follow)
My heart is a grave that is stripped and hollow,
As ice on the water my heart is broken.
O lips forgetful and kindness fickle,
The swallow goes south with you: I go west
Where fields are empty and scythes at rest.
I am the poppy and you the sickle;
My heart is broken within my breast.
_Eva Gore-Booth_
Eva Gore-Booth, the second daughter of Sir Henry Gore-Booth and the
sister of Countess Marcievicz, was born in Sligo, Ireland, in 1872.
She first appeared in "A. E."'s anthology, _New Songs_, in which so
many of the modern Irish poets first came forward.
Her initial volume, _Poems_ (1898), showed practically no
distinction--not even the customary "promise." But _The One and the
Many_ (1904) and _The Sorrowful Princess_ (1907) revealed the gift of
the Celtic singer who is half mystic, half minstrel. Primarily
philosophic, her verse often turns to lyrics as haunting as the two
examples here reprinted.