Poem by Thomas MacDonagh

A Song of Another. For Eoghan

Often enough the leaves have fallen there
Since life for her was changed to other care;
Often enough the winds that swept the wave
And mocked my woe, have moaned over her grave.

I will return: Death now can do no more
Anywhere on these seas or on the shore,
Since he has stilled her heart.  I cannot mourn
For her on these wild seas: I will return.

Death now can do no more.  And what but Death
Has any final power?  He ceased her breath,
Striking her dumb lips pallid; quenched the lights
That were, O Death, my stars of the wild nights
Out on rude ocean -- quenched and closed her eyes
That were, O Death, my stars of the dawn-rise!

Long years ago her quiet form was thrust
Into the quiet earth; low in the dust
Her golden hair lies tarnished every thread
These lone long years, tarnished and dim and dead.

I will return to the far valley, blest
With her soul's presence, now her home of rest--
(Where life was peace to her now death is peace)--
There by her grave my pilgrimage may cease;
There life, there death, in my vain heart shall stir
No passion but the old true love of her.

1. To a Wise Man
2. Of the Man of My First Play
3. Dublin Tramcars
4. Cormac Óg
5. The Philistine

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