Embers, Complete. Gilbert Parker

of the dust of the world?”

       And the man answered:

       “Behold, I bring one perfect yesterday!”

       And the Angel questioned:

       “Hast thou then no to-morrow?

       Hast thou no hope?”

       And the man replied:

       “Who am I that I should hope!

       Out of all my life I have been granted one

       sheaf of memory.”

       And the Angel said:

       “Is this all!”

       And the man answered:

       “Of all else was I robbed by the way:

       but Memory was hidden safely

       in my heart—the world found it not.”

ROSLEEN

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      “She’s the darlin’ of the parish, she’s the pride of

       Inniskillen;

       ’Twould make your heart lep up to see her trippin’

       down the glen;

       There’s not a lad of life and fame that wouldn’t take

       her shillin’

       And inlist inside her service-did ye hear her laughin’

       then?

       Did ye see her with her hand in mine the day that

       Clancy married?

       Ah, darlin’, how we footed it-the grass it was so

       green!

       And when the neighbours wandered home, I was the

       guest that tarried,

       An hour plucked from Paradise—come back to me,

       Rosleen!

       Across the seas, beyand the hills, by lovely Inniskillen,

       The rigiment come marchin’—I hear the call once

       more

       Shure, a woman’s but a woman—so I took the Sergeant’s

       shillin’,

       For the pride o’ me was hurted—shall I never see

       her more?

       She turned her face away from me, and black as night

       the land became;

       Her eyes were jewels of the sky, the finest iver seen;

       She left me for another lad, he was a lad of life and

       fame,

       And the heart of me was hurted—but there’s none

       that’s like Rosleen!”

WILL YOU COME BACK HOME?

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      Will you come back home, where the young larks are

       singin’?

       The door is open wide, and the bells of Lynn are ringin’;

       There’s a little lake I know,

       And a boat you used to row

       To the shore beyond that’s quiet—will you come back

       home?

       Will you come back, darlin’? Never heed the pain and

       blightin’,

       Never trouble that you’re wounded, that you bear the

       scars of fightin’;

       Here’s the luck o’ Heaven to you,

       Here’s the hand of love will brew you

       The cup of peace—ah, darlin’, will you come back

       home?

MARY CALLAGHAN AND ME

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      It was as fine a churchful as you ever clapt an eye on;

       Oh, the bells was ringin’ gaily, and the sun was shinin’

       free;

       There was singers, there was clargy—“Bless ye both,”

       says Father Tryon—

       They was weddin’ Mary Callaghan and me.

       There was gatherin’ of women, there was hush upon the

       stairway,

       There was whisperin’ and smilin’, but it was no place

       for me;

       A little ship was comin’ into harbour through the

       fairway—

       It belongs to Mary Callaghan and me.

       Shure, the longest day has endin’, and the wildest storm

       has fallin’—

       There’s a young gossoon in yander, and he sits upon

       my knee;

       There’s a churchful for the christenin’—do you hear

       the imp a-callin’?

       He’s the pride of Mary Callaghan and me.

KILDARE

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      He’s the man that killed Black Care,

       He’s the pride of all Kildare;

       Shure the devil takes his hat off whin he comes:

       ’Tis the clargy bow before him,

       ’Tis the women they adore him,

       And the Lord Lieutenant orders out the drums—

       For his hangin’, all the drums,

       All the drums!

YOU’LL TRAVEL FAR AND WIDE

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      You’ll travel far and wide, dear, but you’ll come back

       again,

       You’ll come back to your father and your mother in

       the glen,

       Although we should be lyin’ ’neath the heather grasses

       then—

       You’ll be comin’ back, my darlin’!

       You’ll see the icebergs sailin’ along the wintry foam,

       The white hair of the breakers, and the wild swans as

       they roam;

       But you’ll not forget the rowan beside your father’s

       home