The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1895-06-08

III ti,e dance 81 slrsf
p 5ss5 mi te.ss mr. .. las Il y ssss
And ever since hat blsaeed 'hout, I'm
dreaming day and might pf her.
The diyil g. wink of sleep &C ALI set from
Cheeks likesthe rose 81 June, song like the
q lark IN tune Md .s q Il. i sy3,.
Worf nsssr 1is snsa my ' nlad noon sne
81 81. sIasins M sy b'n-f1Fe sits st'e
IT'S little asse, or happirless In sure " IN
What IS wealth fame vl,at is ell 81
kin kind Word from Rer lips IL love
glance from her eye Y. e v.
Oh, though troubles /, throng my breast,
sSss sasa 81 g s's Would Be rest
TAKE Ill sh own own to-day. KIN, Kin and care
Ship them across the say or to the frozen
MsSfEss :i zone; 3S< ~ - 5 . ME- 4
Lave me an orphan bare. but lave me
!; i never Would feel lonesome with the two
some one once once said that the greatest
curse Of the Irish was their versatility;
they could never settle down content
eddy to one thing. / am little In
;clined to think that the saying Is true,
for nearly every clever Irishman
know has at least two irons IN the fire
at the same time. Mr.. Fahey, In his
writing, Is no exception to the rule, for
he changes from one style Of p0ety to
another like weather vane on summer
night. and with about the same ease.
While his ringing political songs are
worthy of Thomas Davis, he is none the
less at home in songs of the affections
and his cradle songs have all the
sweetness Of an Irish nature. What can
be prettier than the following:
LULLABY.
Oh, to and fro on my bosom Of love,
Like bird on the boughs Of the brown
@ hazel swinging;
While a husho falls from the stars up above
And lul-la-lo are the night winds sing
Fl Z ing.
t& Sleep sthoreen Dawn,
4. Sleep on till dawn:
Pease to my heart your sweet breath
bringing.
Oh, wee-shee handles and mouth Of the
rose! s
My share Of the world in his warm nest
is lying;
While a husho falls as the blue eyes close.
And a lul-la-lo is the night-wind dying.
Sleep, flower of love,
Sleep Going dove.
Softly above my hearts glad signing.
Alahna niachree, cling closer to me,
The daylight is flown ana the pale stars
are peeping,
While husho falls DER the land and the
And a lul-la-lo from the far hills creeping.
Sleep sthoreen bawn.
Sleep on till dawn,
Angels their watch above you keeping.
Some of our readers, am quite sure,
would like to know little about Mr.
Fahey, now that they have had q
glimpse at his writings. He was born
at Kinyara, County Galway, on Septem-
Der 20, 1854, and entered the civil serv-
ice in 1873. He has resided in London
since that time and has taken part in
many Irish moveme nts, notably the
Southwark Irish Literary Club and its
successor, the Irish Literary Society.
At sixteen years of age he wrote play
''The Last of the O'Learys," which was
produced in his native town. In the
same year his first printed poem APP
peared In the Nation, since when he has
contributed from time to time to nearly
all the leading periodicals Of Ireland
and England. Most OF his writings ap-
peared over the non de plume Of Ore
din" (the wren). With D. j. O'Dono-
ghue, he wrote book on the Irish MEM
cries Of London, entitled ireland in
London and published In Dub
lin in 1869. A very neat collection Of
his poems was published in 1887 by M
H. Gill & Son Of Dublin. Most of his
poems are in the collection and the vol
ume should be among the treasures of
every Irish nationalist as we'll as of
every lover of poetry.