The Ruined Chapel
By the shore, a plot of ground Clips a ruined chapel round, Buttressed with a grassy mound; Where Day and Night and Day go by And bring no touch of human sound. Washing of the lonely seas, Shaking of the guardian trees, Piping of the salted breeze; Day and Night and Day go by To the endless tune of these. Or when, as winds and waters keep A hush more dead than any sleep, Still morns to stiller evenings creep, And Day and Night and Day go by; Here the silence is most deep. The empty ruins, lapsed again Into Nature's wide domain, Sow themselves with seed and grain As Day and Night and Day go by; And hoard June's sun and April's rain. Here fresh funeral tears were shed; Now the graves are also dead; And suckers from the ash-tree spread, While Day and Night and Day go by; And stars move calmly overhead.
William Allingham
Other author posts
The Eviction
In early morning twilight, raw and chill, Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill, Through miles of mire in steady grave array Threescore well-arm'd police pursue their way; Each tall and bearded man a rifle swings,
St Margarets Eve
Saint Margaret's Eve it did befall, The waves roll so gayly O, The tide came creeping up the wall, Love me true I opened my gate; who there should stand-- The waves roll so gayly O, But a fair lady, with a cup in her hand, Love me true T...
Down On The Shore
Down on the shore, on the sunny shore Where the salt smell cheers the land; Where the tide moves bright under boundless light, And the surge on the glittering strand;
Let Me Sing Of What I Know
A wild west Coast, a little Town, Where little Folk go up and down, Tides flow and winds blow: Night and Tempest and the Sea, Human Will and Human Fate: What is little, what is great Howsoe'er the answer be, Let me sing of what I know ...
