Yea, the voiceless wrath of the wretched, and their un learned discontent, We must give it voice and wisdom till the waiting-tide be spent. Come, then, since all things call us, the living and the dead, And o'er the weltering tangle a glimmering light is shed. Come, then, let us cast off fooling, and put by ease and rest, For the Cause alone is worthy till the good days bring the best. Come, join in the only battle wherein no man can fail, Where whoso fadeth and dieth, yet his deed shall still prevail. Ah! come, cast off all fooling, for this, at least, we know: That the Dawn and the Day is coming, and forth the Banners go. 731 THE DAYS THAT WERE WHILES in the early winter eve And nurse in waving memories (1) HC XLII 732 JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY [1844-1890] A WHITE ROSE THE red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose is a dove. But I send you a cream-white rosebud ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY 733 [1844-1881] WE are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, And sitting by desolate streams; On whom the pale moon gleams: With wonderful deathless ditties 734 We, in the ages lying In the buried past of the earth, ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN [1841-1901] THE Crimson light of sunset falls Through the grey glamour of the murmuring rain, And creeping o'er the housetops crawls Through the black smoke upon the broken pane, Steals to the straw on which she lies, And tints her thin black hair and hollow cheeks, The pale girl smiles, with only One to mark, And dies upon the breast of Night, Like trodden snowdrift melting in the dark. 735 ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE [1837-1909] CHORUS FROM ATALANTA' WHEN the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; And the brown bright nightingale amorous For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, Maiden most perfect, lady of light, With a noise of winds and many rivers, With a clamour of waters, and with might; Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet, Over the splendour and speed of thy feet; For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers, Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night. Where shall we find her, how shall we sing to her, O that man's heart were as fire and could spring to her, As raiment, as songs of the harp-player; For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remember'd is grief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins. The full streams feed on flower of rushes, The chestnut-husk at the chestnut-root. 736 And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night, The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair Her bright breast shortening into sighs; ITYLUS SWALLOW, my sister, O sister swallow, How can thine heart be full of the spring? O swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow, Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow, Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow, |