The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1909-12-18
A. L. MORRISON
THE IRISH EXILES.


A. /. MORRISON.
THE IRISH EXILES.
(By Martin MacDermott.)
When round the merry Christmas
board. or by the Christmas hearth,
The glorious mingled draught is poured
love. melody and mirth!
When friends long absent tell, low
toned their joys and sorrows DER.
AND hand grasps hand, and eyelids fill,
ana lips meet lips once more
On, in that hour t We're kindly done,
some woman's voice would say:
Forget not those who're sad tonight
poor EXiles far away
Alas, for them! this mornings sun saw
many a moist eye pour
Its gushing love, with lodgings vain,
the waste Atlantic DER,
And when he turned his lion-eye this
evening to the west,
The Indian shores were lined with those
who watched his couched crest;
But not to share his glory then, or glad
den in his ray,
They bent their gaze upon his path
those EXiles far away!
1t was-oh, how the heart will cheat!
because they thought, beyond
His glowing couch lay that Green Isle
of which their hearts were fond;
And fancy brought old scenes of home
into each yelling eye,
And through each breast pour'd many
thought that filled it like a sigh.
I was then-'t was then, all warm
with love they knelt them down to
pray,
For Irish homes and kith and kin-poor
Exiles far away!
And then the mother blest her son--the
lover blest the maid.
And then the soldier was a child, and
wept the whilst he prayed.
And then the students pallid cheek
flushed red as summer rose,
And patriot souls forgot their grief to
weep for Erins woes:
And, Oh! but then warm vows were
breathed, that come what might or
may,
They'd right the suffering Isle they
loved-those Exiles far away!
And some there were around the board,
like loving brothers met,
The brave, and fond and joyous hearts
that never can forget;
They pledged THE girls we left at
home, God bless them and they
gave,
THE memory of our absent friends, the
tender and the braver'
Then up erect, with nine times nine
hip, hip, hip hurrah,
Drank Erin slantha gal go bragh!"
those Exiles far away.
Then, oh! to hear the sweet old strains
Of Irish music rise,
Like gushing memories of home be-
meath far foreign skies,
Beneath the spreading calabash, be-
meath the trellised vine,
The bright Italian myrtle bowers, or
dark Columbian pine
Oh! don't these old familiar tones-now
sad, and now so gay
Speak out your very, very, hearts
poor Exiles far away!
But heavens! how many sleep afar, all
needless of these strains,
Tired wanderers! who sought repose on
Europe's battle plains
In strong, fierce headlong fight they
fell, as ships go down in storms
They fell and human whirlwinds swept |
above their shattered formsi
No shroud but glory, wrapt them round, |
But the wandering winds and the heavy |
clouds-poor EXiles far away!
And might the singer claim sigh, he, |
too, could tell how tost
Jpon the strangers dreary shore, his |
hearts best hopes were lost:
low he, too, pinned to hear the tones of
friendship greet his ear,
md pinned to walk the river side, to
youthful musing dear,
md pinned, with yearning silent love
amongst his own to stay
HAS! it is so sad to bean Exile far
away!
hen OH when round the Christmas
board, or by the Christmas hearth,
hat glorious mingled draught is
poured-love, melody and mirth!
When friends long absent tell, low
toned their joys and sorrows Ger,
md hand grasps hand, and eyelids fill,
and lips meet lips once more
n that bright hour, perhaps some wom-
ans voice would say:
Think think, on those who're sad to-
night-poor Exiles far away"
That the precious Baby God have you
M xyo1lrc IL, His most HOLY care, is the