Page:Life of John Boyle O'Reilly.djvu/692

 646 Or how tell half their sadness in cold words,— 

''The poor dumb lutes, the birds that never sing? ''

Of wondrous parrot-greens and iris hue 

Of sensuous flower and of gleaming snake,—

''Ah! what I see I long that so might you. ''

But of these things what picture can make?

Sometime, maybe, a man will wander there,—

A mind God-gifted, and not dull and weak; 

''And he will come and paint that land so fair. ''

''And show the beauties of which I but speak. ''

But in the hard, sad days that there I spent, 

My mind absorbed rude pictures: these I show 

As best I may, and just with this intent,—

''To tell some things that all folk may not know. ''