Embers, Complete

Excerpt

PROEM

And the Angel said:
"What hast thou for all thy travail—
what dost thou bring with thee out
of the dust of the world?"

And the man answered:
"Behold, I bring one perfect yesterday!"

And the Angel questioned:
"Hast thou then no to-morrow?
Hast thou no hope?"

And the man replied:
"Who am I that I should hope!
Out of all my life I have been granted one
sheaf of memory."

And the Angel said:
"Is this all!"

And the man answered:
"Of all else was I robbed by the way:
but Memory was hidden safely
in my heart—the world found it not."

"She's the darlin' of the parish, she's the pride of
Inniskillen;
'Twould make your heart lep up to see her trippin'
down the glen;
There's not a lad of life and fame that wouldn't take
her shillin'
And inlist inside her service-did ye hear her laughin'
then?

Did ye see her with her hand in mine the day that
Clancy married?
Ah, darlin', how we footed it-the grass it was so
green!
And when the neighbours wandered home, I was the
guest that tarried,
An hour plucked from Paradise—come back to me,
Rosleen!

Across the seas, beyand the hills, by lovely Inniskillen,
The rigiment come marchin'—I hear the call once
more
Shure, a woman's but a woman—so I took the Sergeant's
shillin',
For the pride o' me was hurted—shall I never see
her more?

She turned her face away from me, and black as night
the land became;
Her eyes were jewels of the sky, the finest iver seen;
She left me for another lad, he was a lad of life and
fame,
And the heart of me was hurted—but there's none
that's like Rosleen!"

WILL YOU COME BACK HOME?

Will you come back home, where the young larks are
singin'?
The door is open wide, and the bells of Lynn are ringin';
There's a little lake I know,
And a boat you used to row
To the shore beyond that's quiet—will you come back
home?

Will you come back, darlin'? Never heed the pain and
blightin',
Never trouble that you're wounded, that you bear the
scars of fightin';
Here's the luck o' Heaven to you,
Here's the hand of love will brew you
The cup of peace—ah, darlin', will you come back
home?

It was as fine a churchful as you ever clapt an eye on;
Oh, the bells was ringin' gaily, and the sun was shinin'
free;
There was singers, there was clargy—"Bless ye both,"
says Father Tryon—
They was weddin' Mary Callaghan and me.

There was gatherin' of women, there was hush upon the
stairway,
There was whisperin' and smilin', but it was no place
for me;
A little ship was comin' into harbour through the
fairway—
It belongs to Mary Callaghan and me.

Shure, the longest day has endin', and the wildest storm
has fallin'—
There's a young gossoon in yander, and he sits upon
my knee;
There's a churchful for the christenin'—do you hear
the imp a-callin'?
He's the pride of Mary Callaghan and me.

KILDARE

He's the man that killed Black Care,
He's the pride of all Kildare;
Shure the devil takes his hat off whin he comes:
'Tis the clargy bow before him,
'Tis the women they adore him,
And the Lord Lieutenant orders out the drums—
For his hangin', all the drums,
All the drums!

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