Blair Collection > Poems and songs
(20)
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GAELIC AND ENGLISH POEMS.
Let US bind our hearts, my brother,
Close to Christ and to each other ;
Then we'll hope our love to be
Fadeless in its fresh young beauty,
Changeless in its sense of duty,
A gi-een isle in life's rude sea ;
Where, amidst the ceaseless battle,
Sabre's flash and cannon's rattle,
Joy may find a keener zest ;
Where we with a smile, my brother,
Or a word, can cheer each other.
Till we reach the goal of rest.
I want you, dear ones, I want you ;
My soul is day and night
Stretching her wings towards you.
As for her homeward flight.
But the way is dark and eerie
On which alone I stray.
The wings all broken and weary,
And the hoine far away.
Oh, for one precious golden hour
Beyond yon frowning hill ;
Fruit from my own sweet woodland bow(r.
Drink from its crystal rill !
Where grows no blade nor blossom,
Low on the earth I lie ;
My wings o'er my bleeding bosom
I fold, and long to die.
Wherefoi'e blame me so for blindly
Nin-sing that which must decay Ì
Wherefore bid me so unkindly
Thus to cast my flower away Ì
All the beauteous things I cherish,
All the poetry of earth,
Would with my sweet flow'ret perish
All the joy and all the worth.
Let US bind our hearts, my brother,
Close to Christ and to each other ;
Then we'll hope our love to be
Fadeless in its fresh young beauty,
Changeless in its sense of duty,
A gi-een isle in life's rude sea ;
Where, amidst the ceaseless battle,
Sabre's flash and cannon's rattle,
Joy may find a keener zest ;
Where we with a smile, my brother,
Or a word, can cheer each other.
Till we reach the goal of rest.
I want you, dear ones, I want you ;
My soul is day and night
Stretching her wings towards you.
As for her homeward flight.
But the way is dark and eerie
On which alone I stray.
The wings all broken and weary,
And the hoine far away.
Oh, for one precious golden hour
Beyond yon frowning hill ;
Fruit from my own sweet woodland bow(r.
Drink from its crystal rill !
Where grows no blade nor blossom,
Low on the earth I lie ;
My wings o'er my bleeding bosom
I fold, and long to die.
Wherefoi'e blame me so for blindly
Nin-sing that which must decay Ì
Wherefore bid me so unkindly
Thus to cast my flower away Ì
All the beauteous things I cherish,
All the poetry of earth,
Would with my sweet flow'ret perish
All the joy and all the worth.
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Early Gaelic Book Collections > Blair Collection > Poems and songs > (20) |
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Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/76082247 |
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Description | Gaelic and English. |
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Shelfmark | Blair.83 |
Additional NLS resources: | |
Attribution and copyright: |
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More information |
Description | A selection of books from a collection of more than 500 titles, mostly on religious and literary topics. Also includes some material dealing with other Celtic languages and societies. Collection created towards the end of the 19th century by Lady Evelyn Stewart Murray. |
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Description | Selected items from five 'Special and Named Printed Collections'. Includes books in Gaelic and other Celtic languages, works about the Gaels, their languages, literature, culture and history. |
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