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Denis Florence MacCarthy
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 123 pages of information about Poems.

What bird, whose absence gives him pain,
Doth he thus tenderly recall? 
What longed-for joy would he regain
By those two words which rise and fall,—­
  “Come again!  Come again!”

Sometimes, when I too long have lain
And listened to his plaintive air,
An impulse I cannot restrain
Hath moved me too to breathe that prayer,—­
  “Come again!  Come again!”

O vanished youth, when faith was plain,
When hopes were high, and manhood’s years
Showed dazzling summits to attain;
O days, ere eyes grew dim with tears,—­
  “Come again!  Come again!”

O friends, whose memory leaves no stain,
O dearly loved and early lost! 
Do you your love for me retain
Beyond the silent sea you crossed? 
  “Come again!  Come again!”

Alas! sweet bird, all life moves on;
The seed becomes the ripened grain,
And what is past is gone, is gone! 
Cease calling, therefore,—­’tis in vain—­,
  “Come again!  Come again!”

MY LOST FRIENDS

One by one they have slipped from Earth,
And vanished into the depths of space,
And I, beside my lonely hearth,
Find none to take their place.

Never a word of fond farewell
Fell from their lips ere they were gone;
Never a hint since then to tell
If after night came dawn!

Latest of all to thus depart,
Still is thy hand-clasp warm in mine;
Wilt thou not tell me where thou art? 
Canst thou impart no sign?

Wild are the winds above thy grave;
Cold is the form I loved so well;
But what to thee are storms that rave,
Or the snow that last night fell?

Out in the awful void of night,
Numberless suns and planets roll;
Has one of all those isles of light
Received thy homeless soul?

Mute is the sky as an empty tomb;
Trackless the path, and all unknown;
What means this journey through its gloom,
Which each must make alone?

Vain is the task; I strive no more
To learn the secret of their fate;
Till sounds for me the muffled oar,
I can but hope and wait.

But well I know they have gone from me
Into the silent depths of space,
Across a vast, uncharted sea,
Whose shores I cannot trace.

TO SLEEP AND TO FORGET

To sleep and to forget,—­O blessed guerdon!  The day is waning, and the night draws near; My failing heart grows weary of its burden; Why should I therefore hesitate or fear To sleep and to forget?

Though bright my skies with transient gleams of gladness,
And sweet the breath of many a summer sea,
Yet, under all, a haunting note of sadness
Forever lures me in its minor key
           To sleep and to forget.

Of petty souls whose joy is defamation,
Of malice, envy, cruelty, and greed
Each day supplies its sickening revelation,
And makes imperative my spirit’s need
           To sleep and to forget.

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