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Show I, j J ' THE GRAY AND THE GREEN. j j The gray streets of London are grayer than the The gray streets of London where I must walk ; my lone, , I .' The gray city pavements are hard to tread, alas! I j My heart and feet are aching for the Irish grass. For down the winding boreen the grass is soft as j The wind is sweet as honey, the hedges white as 1 1 Gray dust and grayer houses are here, and skies ' i like brass: j ' The lark is singing, soaring o'er the Irish grass. I, . i J ( x The gray streets of London stretch out a thousand ' O dreary walls and windows, and never a song or I 5; smile! ; ji J Heavy with money getting, the sad gray people j j There's gold in drifts "and shallows in the Irish f God built the pleasant mountains and blest the 1 fertile plain, ' : But in this sad gray London God knows I go in J O brown as any amber, and clear as any glass, j .The streams my heart hears calling from the Irish j The gray streets of London they say are paved ; J with gold; ! I'd rather have the cowslips that two small hands j could hold; I ! 1 'I'd give the yellow money the foolish folk amass j For the dew that's gray as silver on the Irish I think that I'll be going before I die of grief, The wind from over the mountains will give my heart relief; The cuckoo's calling sweetly, calling in dreams alas! . . Come home, come, acushla, to. the Irish grass. Pall Mall Gazette. |