Page:Poems Denver.djvu/203

So stands she, and her eyes are turned
 Towards Erin's island-home,
While thought flies faster than the wind
 Drives on the flying foam.

The waves are sliding to her feet,
 But that she heedeth not;
The present in the mighty past
 Lies buried and forgot.
Affection's tides are filling fast
 Her bosom to the brim,
And in their depths all lesser things
 Are overwhelmed and dim.

Erin! Mavourneen! bears the breeze
 No message from thy shore?—
With warm remembrances of thee
 Her heart is running o'er.
Erin go bragh! Thy shamrock green
 Is like thy children's hearts,
Thro' whatsoever ills they pass,
 Their courage ne'er departs.

Sweet girl of Erin! in the far,
 Far depths of memory,
There are a thousand glorious shapes
 Made visible to thee,
And to thy still and listening heart
 Each hath a different tone,
A language breathing forth a sound
 Peculiarly its own.