'The heart-haunted home of the ever-faithful Gael.' AT Lisnamaine, since thither he comes no more, 'Tis but a-dream he sees where, little and lone, The rough grey house sits like a boulder-stone Fast by the foam-rimmed murmuring of the shore. Only beyond black shadow across the floor Yet glimmers red, as many a year agone, More precious flame than ever bickering shone From diamond's dew, or ruby's fiery core. And, Mary Mother, grant yon light may burn At Lisnamaine till this poor son's return; Or if in sooth he must not here behold The bliss he counts long exile days to earn, Ah, lest too late his dear hope's doom he learn, Let so his eyes be dark, his heart be cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE LEGEND OF RABBI BEN LEVY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW IO VICTIS by WILLIAM WETMORE STORY CHRIST TO HIS SPOUSE by WILLIAM BALDWIN INTRODUCTORY VERSES TO MARIA HACK by BERNARD BARTON IN IMMEMORIAM by EDWARD BRADLEY SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 10 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |