Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

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32 Though bright be its sparkling seas, I never would roam from my island home, For charms like these! Should I seek that land so bright, Where the Spanish maiden roves, With a heart of love and an eye of light, Through her native citron groves? Oh! sweet would it be to rest In the midst of the olive vales, Where the orange blooms and the rose perfumes The breath of the balmy gales! But no! no! no!-- Though sweet be its wooing air, I never would roam from my island home, To scenes though fair! Should I pass from pole to pole? Should I seek the western skies, Where the giant rivers roll, And the mighty mountains rise? Or those treacherous isles that lie In the midst of the sunny deeps, Where the cocoa stands on the glistening sands, And the dread tornado sweeps! Ah! no! no! no! They have no charms for me; I never would roam from my island home, Though poor it be! Poor!--oh! 'tis rich in all That flows from Nature's hand; Rich in the emerald wall That guards its emerald land! Are Italy's fields more green? Do they teem with a richer store Than the bright green breast of the Isle of the West, And its wild, luxuriant shore? Ah! no! no! no! Upon it heaven doth smile; Oh, I never would roam from my native home,
33 My own dear isle! LOVE'S LANGUAGE. Need I say how much I love thee?-- Need my weak words tell, That I prize but heaven above thee, Earth not half so well? If this truth has failed to move thee, Hope away must flee; If thou dost not feel I love thee, Vain my words would be! Need I say how long I've sought thee-- Need my words declare, Dearest, that I long have thought thee Good and wise and fair? If no sigh this truth has brought thee, Woe, alas! to me; Where thy own heart has not taught thee, Vain my words would be! Need I say when others wooed thee, How my breast did pine, Lest some fond heart that pursued thee Dearer were than mine? If no pity then came to thee, Mixed with love for me, Vainly would my words imbue thee, Vain my words would be! Love's best language is unspoken, Yet how simply known; Eloquent is every token, Look, and touch, and tone. If thy heart hath not awoken, If not yet on thee Love's sweet silent light hath broken, Vain my words would be!
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 and 22: 21 Music-shaken, It doth waken, Hal
Page 23 and 24: 23 Shudder at their midnight madnes
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: 31 Long as a Lapland winter, which
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
Page 73 and 74: 73 To fight the fight where my frie
Page 75 and 76: 75 All these on me in turn shall so
Page 77 and 78: 77 With such an easy effort that it
Page 79 and 80: 79 As a huge mill-stone, cracking i
Page 81 and 82: 81 He to have died and thou to have
Page 83 and 84:
83 Ah! hapless deed, that still my
Page 85 and 86:
85 First on the shore, as swift our
Page 87 and 88:
87 The wave that swallows up the sh
Page 89 and 90:
89 38. "The plains of Aie" (son of
Page 91 and 92:
91 This, which it is to be presumed
Page 93 and 94:
93 Like hooded monks before a dazzl
Page 95 and 96:
95 I sought the rocky eastern isle,
Page 97 and 98:
97 At length the long-expected morn
Page 99 and 100:
99 Hail, spotless Virgin! mildest,
Page 101 and 102:
101 Knowledge he tracked through ma
Page 103 and 104:
103 But holding marble basilics and
Page 105 and 106:
105 Her cold hands chilled the boso
Page 107 and 108:
107 Bright, even as bright as those
Page 109 and 110:
109 Rise up to God like morn and ev
Page 111 and 112:
111 There never falls the rain-clou
Page 113 and 114:
113 would be always visited and pro
Page 115 and 116:
115 Sweetly the rising moonbeams pl
Page 117 and 118:
117 To Desmond of the flowing strea
Page 119 and 120:
119 If beauty decks with peerless c
Page 121 and 122:
121 When all who live on Irish grou
Page 123 and 124:
123 Thus rushed upon the doomed Mac
Page 125 and 126:
125 Hangs the long leash that binds
Page 127 and 128:
127 "If, when I reach my home to-ni
Page 129 and 130:
129 "Thou'st bravely won an Irish b
Page 131 and 132:
131 MacDonnells was at Glenarm. 85.
Page 133 and 134:
133 And such was young Paolo! The m
Page 135 and 136:
135 prayer. At morning when Paolo d
Page 137 and 138:
137 And are bless'd in the name of
Page 139 and 140:
139 But the tower in whose shade th
Page 141 and 142:
141 Burning and withering, its drop
Page 143 and 144:
143 his soul. For though sweet are
Page 145 and 146:
145 Still some scenes are yet encha
Page 147 and 148:
147 Need we say that Maurice loved
Page 149 and 150:
149 As he sweepeth through the wild
Page 151 and 152:
151 There's a crowding and a crushi
Page 153 and 154:
153 100. The lusmore (or fairy cap)
Page 155 and 156:
155 Advance! Through hope and work
Page 157 and 158:
157 That can make thee rouse for it
Page 159 and 160:
159 Still in the battle for Freedom
Page 161 and 162:
161 Dark was my dream, though many
Page 163 and 164:
163 Feel life has but one disaster,
Page 165 and 166:
165 Who all the spring-time of thy
Page 167 and 168:
167 We must spend the hour that fli
Page 169 and 170:
169 The last great champion of the
Page 171 and 172:
171 To be hushed, to be whipt, Its
Page 173 and 174:
173 March 11th, 1856. 107. It is st
Page 175 and 176:
175 A glorious wreath my happy hand
Page 177 and 178:
177 Thine emerald robes are held fo
Page 179 and 180:
179 Let us seek the wandering May,
Page 181 and 182:
181 The wing`ed flame to the rosebu
Page 183 and 184:
183 Of the life that follows this,
Page 185 and 186:
185 Is with the flowers the time of
Page 187 and 188:
187 Or following its devious course
Page 189 and 190:
189 In Andalusia's Eden clime, Or '
Page 191 and 192:
191 One, who is labour's useful tra
Page 193 and 194:
193 Supports the mightiest crown on
Page 195 and 196:
195 They twin'd their trembling han
Page 197 and 198:
197 And grateful joy, the first and
Page 199 and 200:
199 All their silvery stores, There
Page 201 and 202:
201 Now with elf-locks dripping Fro
Page 203 and 204:
203 Rises soaring to heaven in its
Page 205 and 206:
205 Nought could resist his mighty
Page 207 and 208:
207 The modest maiden May. Oh! she
Page 209 and 210:
209 And as the thoughtless children
Page 211 and 212:
211 And the young Year rose from hi
Page 213 and 214:
213 THE FIRST OF THE ANGELS. Hush!
Page 215 and 216:
215 And a blessing to the low. When
Page 217 and 218:
217 Centenary Odes. O'CONNELL. AUGU
Page 219 and 220:
219 And a voice rings out through t
Page 221 and 222:
221 But soon had come the final com
Page 223 and 224:
223 And grateful hearts invoked a b
Page 225 and 226:
225 He slept by the soft Ligurian S
Page 227 and 228:
227 In words though weak, in hues t
Page 229 and 230:
229 The Homer of the West. He sings
Page 231 and 232:
231 'Twas thus he sang, And while t
Page 233 and 234:
233 The whole horizon fills. Or the
Page 235 and 236:
235 The wit and song, the name and
Page 237 and 238:
237 In visiting some bower, She sca
Page 239 and 240:
239 'Tis Love, methought, blind Lov
Page 241 and 242:
241 Thou by my side, fair vision, u
Page 243 and 244:
243 Where scarce a flower that now
Page 245 and 246:
245 Ah! wondrous is the lot of him
Page 247 and 248:
247 And rob the heavens of stars fo
Page 249 and 250:
249 What without me were all the po
Page 251 and 252:
251 RECOLLECTIONS. Ah! summer time,
Page 253 and 254:
253 Near to the lilacs round the po
Page 255 and 256:
255 DOLORES. The moon of my soul is
Page 257 and 258:
257 Of thy young heart's fond ambit
Page 259 and 260:
259 'Tis Baiae, by a softer blue! G
Page 261 and 262:
261 The songs melodious, which--a n
Page 263 and 264:
263 The poet's dream--the lover's j
Page 265 and 266:
265 And the ivy clothes the wall, T
Page 267 and 268:
267 Let the spring-tide of Hope sen
Page 269 and 270:
269 DARRYNANE. [Written in 1844, af
Page 271 and 272:
271 115. The abbey on the grounds o
Page 273 and 274:
273 Like thee, when wet with heaven
Page 275 and 276:
275 'Tis warmed by an internal heat
Page 277 and 278:
277 Their names be written in the B
Page 279 and 280:
279 August 28, 1870. 119. Written d
Page 281 and 282:
281 or 'girrinna.' The bird, at lea
Page 283 and 284:
283 Ferdiah. line 69 [birds sing] {
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Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

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