At the grey dawn, amongst the falling leaves, <br />A little bird outside my window swung, <br />High on a topmost branch he trilled his song, <br />And ' Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!' ever sung. <br /> <br />“Take me,' I cried, 'back to my island home; <br />Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings '; <br />For my lone spirit wide his pinions spread, ' <br />And home and home and home he ever sings. <br /> <br />We lingered over Ulster stern and wild. <br />I called: ' Arise! doth none remember me ?' <br />One turned in the darkness murmuring: <br />“How loud upon the breakers sobs the sea!' <br /> <br />We rested over Connaught—whispering said: <br />“Awake, awake, and welcome! I am here.' <br />One woke and shivered at the morning grey: <br />“The trees, I never heard them sigh so drear.' <br /> <br />We flew low over Munster. Long I wept: <br />“You used to love me, love me once again!' <br />They spoke from out the shadows wondering: ^ <br />M You'd think of tears, so bitter falls the rain.' !| <br /> <br />Long over Leinster lingered we. ' Good-bye! <br />My best beloved, good-bye for evermore.' v^ <br />Sleepless they tossed and whispered to the dawn; <br />“So sad a wind was never heard before.' <br /> <br />Was it a dream I dreamt ? For yet there swings <br />In the grey morn a bird upon the bough, <br />And ' Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!' ever sings. <br />Oh! fair the breaking day in Ireland now.<br /><br />Dora Sigerson Shorter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bird-from-the-west/
