Never forgetful silence fall on thee, Nor younger voices overtake thee, Nor echoes from thine ancient hills forsake thee, Old music heard by Mona of the sea; And where with moving melodies there break thee, Pastoral Conway, venerable Dee. Like music lives, nor may that music die, Still in the far, fair Gaelic places; The speech, so wistful with its kindly graces, Holy Croagh Patrick knows, and holy Hy; The speech, that wakes the soul in withered faces, And wakes remembrance of great things gone by. Like music by the desolate Land's End, Mournful forgetfulness hath broken; No more words kindred to the winds are spoken, Where upon iron cliffs whole seas expend That strength, whereof the unalterable token Remains wild music, even to the world's end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE CHRISTMAS BASKET by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: THE COWARD by RUDYARD KIPLING TACT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON GRACE AND STRENGTH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A SWING SONG by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM TIMID THINGS by JOHN HAMPTON ATKINSON INSCRIPTION IN NETHER STOREY CHURCH IN MEMORY OF RICHARD CAMPLIN by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES |