Embers, Complete. Gilbert Parker

new faces on

       you smile;

       You’ll bide with them and love them, but you’ll long

       for us the while;

       For the word across the water, and the farewell by the

       stile—

       For the true heart’s here, my darlin’!

       You’ll hear the wild birds singin’ beneath a brighter sky,

       The roof-tree of your home, dear, it will be grand and

       high;

       But you’ll hunger for the hearthstone where, a child,

       you used to lie—

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

       And when your foot is weary, and when your heart is sore,

       And you come back to the moor that spreads beyand

       your father’s door,

       There’ll be many an ancient comrade to greet you on

       the shore—

       At your comin’ back, my darlin’!

       Ah, the hillock cannot cover, and the grass it cannot hide

       The love that never changeth, whatever wind or tide;

       And though you’ll not be seein’, we’ll be standin’ by

       your side—

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

       O, there’s no home like the old home, there’s no pillow

       like the breast

       You slumbered on in childhood, like a young bird in

       the nest:

       We are livin’ still and waitin’, and we’re hopin’ for the

       best—

       Ah, you’re comin’ back, my darlin’—comin’ back!

FARCALLADEN RISE

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      Oh, it’s down the long side of Farcalladen Rise,

       With the knees pressing hard to the saddle, my men;

       With the sparks from the hoofs giving light to the eyes,

       And our hearts beating hard as we rode to the glen!

       And it’s back with the ring of the chain and the spur,

       And it’s back with the sun on the hill and the moor,

       And it’s back is the thought sets my pulses astir—

       But I’ll never go back to Farcalladen more!

       Oh, it’s down the long side of Farcalladen Rise,

       And it’s swift as an arrow and straight as a spear,

       And it’s keen as the frost when the summer-time dies,

       That we rode to the glen, and with never a fear.

       And it’s hey for the hedge, and it’s hey for the wall,

       And it’s over the stream with an echoing cry;

       And there’s three fled for ever from old Donegal,

       And there’s two that have shown how bold Irishmen die!

       For it’s rest when the gallop is over, my men,

       And it’s here’s to the lads that have ridden their last;

       And it’s here’s to the lasses we leave in the glen,

       With a smile for the future, a sigh for the past!

GIVE ME THE LIGHT HEART

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      Give, me the light heart, Heaven above!

       Give me the hand of a friend,

       Give me one high fine spirit to love,

       I’ll abide my fate to the end:

       I will help where I can, I will cherish my own,

       Nor walk the steep way of the world alone.

WHERE SHALL WE BETAKE US?

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      “Where shall we betake us when the day’s work is over?

       (Ah, red is the rose-bush in the lane.)

       Happy is the maid that knows the footstep of her lover—

       (Sing the song, the Eden song, again.)

       Who shall listen to us when black sorrow comes a-reaping?

       (See the young lark falling from the sky.)

       Happy is the man that has a true heart in his keeping—

       True hearts flourish when the roses die.”

NO MAN’S LAND

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      Oh, we have been a-maying, dear, beyond the city gates,

       The little city set upon a hill;

       And we have seen the jocund smile upon the lips of Fate,

       And we have known the splendours of our will.

       Oh, we have wandered far, my dear, and we have loved apace;

       A little hut we built upon the sand,

       The sun without to lighten it, within, your golden face—

       O happy dream, O happy No Man’s Land!

       The pleasant furniture of spring was set in all the fields,

       And gay and wholesome were the herbs and flowers;

       Our simple cloth of love was spread with all that nature yields,

       And frugal only were the passing hours.

       Oh, we have been a-maying, dear, we’ve left the world behind,

       We’ve sung and danced and gossiped as we strayed;

       And when within our little but your fingers draw the blind,

       We’ll loiter by the fire that love has made.

AT SEA

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      Through the round window above, the deep palpable blue,

       The wan bright moon, and the sweet stinging breath of the sea;

       And below, in the shadows, thine eyes like stars,

       And Love brooding low, and the warm white glory of thee.

       Oh, soft was the song in my soul, and soft beyond thought

       were thy lips,

       And thou wert mine own, and Eden reconquered was mine

       And the way that I go is the way of thy feet, and the breath