THEY DID NOT SEE THY FACE
[IN MEMORY OF THOMAS MACDONAGH]
Some on the pleasant hillside have thought they saw thee pass,
As flings a cloud before the sun a shadow on the grass,
They praised thy fairness and held dear thy meekness and thy grace;
They only saw thy shade, Kathleen, they did not see thy face.
Some on the purple mountains stood to see thee speeding by,
As glides a sudden golden shaft across a stormy sky;
And these were braggarts of their love within thy dwelling-place;
They saw thy beauty, Rosin Dubh, they did not see thy face.
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