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DIRGE OF THE MUNSTER FOREST, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Bring out the hemlock! Bring the funeral yew!


The morning wind goes jocundly
?And lifts the young boughs' heads:
The dew is on the heather bells,
?It lies on spider webs.
And there is one, a princess bright,
?Who walks with us to-day,
Though in the dark and loathly woods
Her body hidden lay.
No more her song by Flesk and Lee
?Shall waken in the dawn;
No more she'll hear the heather bells,
?Or see the sun go down.
Her bright hair from the Summer boughs
?The winds of Autumn swept;
Her golden voice with all its joy
?Into the earth has crept.
O winds, be still, and streams, be hushed,
?Nor let the heather bell
Ring out across the Munster hills
?Its silver sound and fell.
For we have seen a gentle thing
?Laid low, that once had been
The joy of all the woods and hills,
The beauty of the green.
The sun that on her yellow hair
?So lovingly did shine,
No more may show a living thing
?So full of life divine.
No more her laughter on the wind
?Shall meet us in the woods;
No more she'll bind with yellow flowers
?Her fair and snowy roods.
Her eyes that had the light of heaven
?Within their happy blue,
Are covered now with earth and leaves,
And lost to us and you.
She walks no more the heather hills,
?She sits no more in bower;
Her voice is gone from out our lives
?Like a flame from out a flower.
Ah, who shall find so fair a thing
?When he has need to rest?
Who shall bind up his heart's wounds
With hair like hers and breast?
And who shall make the Winter time
?A thing of song and joy,
As she who walks with us to-day
Did when she was a boy?
Oh, never more shall we hear the sound
?Of her sweet, sweet voice again,
Or meet her in the early morn
Along the Munster plain.
Her body sleeps beneath the earth
?In the dark, loathly woods;
But her soul is walking with us here
?By the waters and the buds.
And in the heart of every flower
?That blows by Flesk and Lee,
There is the echo of her voice
And her beauty fair to see.






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