Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/140

134 Oh paining eyes, but not with salty weeping,

My heart is like a sod in winter rain;

Ere you will see those baying waters leaping

Like hungry hounds once more, how many a pain

Shall heal; but when my last short song is trolled

You'll sleep here on wan cheeks grown thin and old.