If there be graveyards in the heart
From which no roses spring,
A place of wrecks and old gray tombs
From which no birds take wing,
Where linger buried hopes and dreams
Like ghosts among the graves,
Why, buried hopes are dismal things,
And lonely ghosts are knaves!
If there come dreary winter days,
When summer...
Bless the dear old verdant land!
Brother, wert thou born of it?
As thy shadow life doth stand
Twining round its rosy band,
Did an Irish mother’s hand
Guide thee in the morn of it?
Did a father’s first command
Teach thee love or scorn of it?
Thou who tread’st its fertile breast,
Dost thou feel a glow for it?...
Bless God, he went as soldiers,
His musket on his breast —
Grant God, he charge the bravest
Of all the martial blest!
Please God, might I behold him
In epauletted white —
I should not fear the foe then —
I should not fear the fight!
Kill your Balm — and its Odors bless you —
Bare your Jessamine — to the storm —
And she will fling her maddest perfume —
Haply — your Summer night to Charm —
Stab the Bird — that built in your bosom —
Oh, could you catch her last Refrain —
Bubble! "forgive" — "Some better" — Bubble!
"...
