CHANGED.

It seems the same as it used to be, when I watched the sunset

glow,

In the days of beauty and gladness, the times of long ago;

Like a light that is dim and far-off, for dark years, full of

pain,

Lie, rolled between me and the beautiful past, that never can

come again!

Yet Ireland's hills are as verdant now, and the sun, as he

sinks to rest,

As then pours his parting glory, o'er Slieve Gallion's purple

crest,

A glory that brightens and lingers, as though it were fain to

stay,

Till the twilight shadows darken, and daylight dies away.

On Mullaboy the darkness looms weird on the lonely hill,

The cattle have ceased their lowing, and the song-birds'

notes are still;

And here, in the gloom and silence, 'neath the stars and the

quiet sky,

Old memories throng around me, of days long, long gone by.

Two scenes are ever fairest, and first in this heart of mine,

And with clearer light and brighter, 'mong the dimmer

phantoms shine,

And perfect in light and shadow, in tracing true and grand

Are the pictures as memory paints them, with firm and master-

hand.

The first is a cloudless moonlight, in calm and silvery

sheen,

And the range of the Morne Mountains in the dim background is

seen;

Beneath them the sea is rolling, all fair in the gentle

light,

And beauty and peace are blending in the hush of the summer

night.

I gaze, till again in fancy, I hear the waves' soft roar,

As they break in wild sweet music along Rostrevor's shore;

And a voice with their song is blending telling the old sweet

tale,

Of a fond, true love, that through life's long years would

never change or fail.

That picture fades before me and the second comes in view--

A walk 'neath o'er-arching beeches, with the sunlight

glinting through

Leaves that rustle and whisper on branches that wave above,

A silent, tearful parting, the death of a deathless love!

Dead, and yet unforgotten, worn, but never estranged,

The glory and brightness of morning to the darkness of

midnight changed!

And life is dull and dreary, and joy from earth is fled,

For the love that was light and beauty, and joy and peace, is

dead.

Lays from the West · 第 70 / 81 题