The Irish standard., 1893-12-23
y LETTER 10 IRELAND ],


! INN ne. acushla, when yon write again.
tbs old white walled cabin "A nding yetsl I.
& Dothe long branches tap the window pane.
From the old trees that used to cover Il;
or has rude time been busy. on the spot,
And struck to earth my mothers little cot!
on mind the garden, with It's creaking gate,
IT. saucy weeds and sweet old-fashi oned
" FIJI flowers, iii s5s f..as,s d
where DARK hatred Dan and pretty. red Tipped
Kate, a 81 +=
Would wander idly through the evening
4 she, tn her Irish eyes. so deeply blue,
y He. with his Irish heart 60 deeply true' #
4 They say, "She is wealthy lady now
L. In that great land 80 far across the sea:
That costly jewels shine upon her brow
wonder if those gems can ever be
As fair ana bright as were the drops Of dew
Upon the ground when she was young and
true? .3
Iwonder do her thoughts e'er CROSS the tide,
Back to the faithful hearts that loved her
there ~
Back to the time. when with thrill of pride,
she tied new gay ribbon thro her hair;
When in her bosom with q smile, she wore
Ahappy HEARTBEAT jewel Of the poor
And Dan-brave. hearted Dan! whose every
look
Was noble with the spirit of the man.
Whose life was like page in honor's book.
It's fairest, purest page-dear honest Dam.
Died, did you say, within prison cell.
Far from the hears that loved the boy 80 well?
Far? nayt tt at could not be-for love will draw
..<Ino ~ hxASN hnH 40 a
Niles upon miles apart; no time, no law
Nor endless leagues of great ady ing sea,
Can sever souls that love, one from another,
Who scorning time and tide. still seek each
And many q patriot whose last faint breath,
Was spent. perhaps, upon the prison air.
Who. lying in the very>>sns of death,
Blest his dear country with dying prayer,
Has left hi spirit noble, free. and grand,
Still throbblng in the heart of Ireland!
Tell me, acushla, do the boys still pass,
Along the narrow lanes, at close OF day
Their sturdy limbs half buried In the grass,
Crushing the wild flowers on their homeward
way;
ainRing gay snatches of some old quaint songs,
The oney of the brogue upon their tongues?
Aud do the girls still to the doorways fly,
=, Or from the little shadows shyly p eep:
While bright, stray suabeams, dropping from
tho sky
Bright as their own sweet smiles will softly
creep
Around their warm young faces, pure end fair,
That shine so radiant midst their waving hair?
Aud tell me, dea, heart, do the old folks still
Gather to gossip on the wide main road?
Aud do the children play across the hill?
And does the peddler. with his heavy load
Trudge on from door to do n. with spirits gay.
Telling droll stories as he wends his way?
Do lovers still beside some prattllng stream,
Repeat the old Cd tale" in low soft tones?
And does the village poet sing and dream?
And do tn Migrants on the wayside stones
Hold out their hands unto the passers by,
Who never yet refused them charity?
Tell me-but oh! know full we'll, dear heart
That though my mothers cottage is no more
Thss though wild weeds and tiny shrubs may
start f
/ From the old spot where lay the dear, dear
floor
That Iris hearts are just as warm and free
AS when slept upon my mothers knee.
NARY M. EoRREsTRR.