Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
22 Of the music-breathing Spring, Young birds twittering, Streamlets glittering, Insects on transparent wing-- All hailed the Summer nuptials of their King! Now the rosy East gives warning, 'Tis the wished-for nuptial morning. Sweetest truant from Elysium, Golden morning of the May! All the guests are in their places-- Lilies with pale, high-bred faces-- Hawthorns in white wedding favours, Scented with celestial savours-- Daisies, like sweet country maidens, Wear white scolloped frills to-day; 'Neath her hat of straw the Peasant Primrose sitteth, Nor permitteth Any of her kindred present, Specially the milk-sweet cowslip, E'er to leave the tranquil shade; By the hedges, Or the edges Of some stream or grassy glade, They look upon the scene half wistful, half afraid. Other guests, too, are invited, From the alleys dimly lighted, From the pestilential vapours Of the over-peopled town-- From the fever and the panic, Comes the hard-worked, swarth mechanic-- Comes the young wife pallor-stricken At the cares that round her thicken-- Comes the boy whose brow is wrinkled, Ere his chin is clothed in down-- And the foolish pleasure-seekers, Nightly thinking They are drinking Life and joy from poisoned beakers,
23 Shudder at their midnight madness, And the raving revel scorn: All are treading To the wedding In the freshness of the morn, And feel, perchance too late, the bliss of being born. And the Student leaves his poring, And his venturous exploring In the gold and gem-enfolding Waters of the ancient lore-- Seeking in its buried treasures, Means for life's most common pleasures; Neither vicious nor ambitious-- Simple wants and simple wishes. Ah! he finds the ancient learning But the Spartan's iron ore; Without value in an era Far more golden Than the olden-- When the beautiful chimera, Love, hath almost wholly faded Even from the dreams of men. From his prison Newly risen-- From his book-enchanted den-- The stronger magic of the morning drives him forth again. And the Artist, too--the Gifted-- He whose soul is heaven-ward lifted. Till it drinketh inspiration At the fountain of the skies; He, within whose fond embraces Start to life the marble graces; Or, with God-like power presiding, With the potent pencil gliding, O'er the void chaotic canvas Bids the fair creations rise! And the quickened mass obeying Heaves its mountains; From its fountains
- Page 1 and 2: 1 Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis P
- Page 3 and 4: 3 Spanish Literature," new edition,
- Page 5 and 6: 5 Many of the earlier poems here co
- Page 7 and 8: 7 4. The following are the titles a
- Page 9 and 10: 9 Remonstrance Ireland's Vow A Drea
- Page 11 and 12: 11 BALLADS AND LYRICS. WAITING FOR
- Page 13 and 14: 13 Like a dream. The blue smoke upw
- Page 15 and 16: 15 The golden bells that deck the f
- Page 17 and 18: 17 13. Near the town is the "Fairy
- Page 19 and 20: 19 That cometh with years-- Bitter
- Page 21: 21 Music-shaken, It doth waken, Hal
- Page 25 and 26: 25 Heart-enchanting, Cythna, Genevi
- Page 27 and 28: 27 When I have knelt in the temple
- Page 29 and 30: 29 On the wing of the spring, comes
- Page 31 and 32: 31 Long as a Lapland winter, which
- Page 33 and 34: 33 My own dear isle! LOVE'S LANGUAG
- Page 35 and 36: 35 How poor or great may be my fate
- Page 37 and 38: 37 Truth, forget the constant beami
- Page 39 and 40: 39 Oh! none was to rival the prince
- Page 41 and 42: 41 At my window, late and early, In
- Page 43 and 44: 43 In fragrant sighs its heart reve
- Page 45 and 46: 45 For the summer is always there!
- Page 47 and 48: 47 The dread expanding force of the
- Page 49 and 50: 49 the agile spring so swift and li
- Page 51 and 52: 51 Though Domnal[42] it should be,
- Page 53 and 54: 53 Who hitherto have come to fight
- Page 55 and 56: 55 CUCHULLIN. If Conor's royal stre
- Page 57 and 58: 57 Unto the chariot, and he rode fu
- Page 59 and 60: 59 Last year it was in a vision of
- Page 61 and 62: 61 "Glad am I, O Cuchullin, thou ha
- Page 63 and 64: 63 Thence impetuous wilt thou grow,
- Page 65 and 66: 65 No, the great prize shall not by
- Page 67 and 68: 67 Like bees upon the wing on a fin
- Page 69 and 70: 69 And then they braced their two b
- Page 71 and 72: 71 And thus betwixt the twain this
23<br />
Shudder at their midnight madness,<br />
And the raving revel scorn:<br />
All are treading<br />
To the wedding<br />
In the freshness of the morn,<br />
And feel, perchance too late, the bliss of being born.<br />
And the Student leaves his poring,<br />
And his venturous exploring<br />
In the gold and gem-enfolding<br />
Waters of the ancient lore--<br />
Seeking in its buried treasures,<br />
Means for life's most common pleasures;<br />
Neither vicious nor ambitious--<br />
Simple wants and simple wishes.<br />
Ah! he finds the ancient learning<br />
But the Spartan's iron ore;<br />
Without value in an era<br />
Far more golden<br />
Than the olden--<br />
When the beautiful chimera,<br />
Love, hath almost wholly faded<br />
Even from the dreams of men.<br />
From his prison<br />
Newly risen--<br />
From his book-enchanted den--<br />
The stronger magic of the morning drives him forth again.<br />
And the Artist, too--the Gifted--<br />
He whose soul is heaven-ward lifted.<br />
Till it drinketh inspiration<br />
At the fountain of the skies;<br />
He, within whose fond embraces<br />
Start to life the marble graces;<br />
Or, with God-like power presiding,<br />
With the potent pencil gliding,<br />
O'er the void chaotic canvas<br />
Bids the fair creations rise!<br />
And the quickened mass obeying<br />
Heaves its mountains;<br />
From its fountains
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