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Show The Hill 0' Dreams. My grief! for the days by an' done. When I was a young girl straight an' tall, Comin" alone at set o' sun Up the high hill road from Cuahcn-da.ll, Cuahcn-da.ll, I thought the miles no hardship then, Nor the long road weary to my feet For the thrushes sang in the cool deep glen An' the evenin' air was cool and sweet. My head with many a thought was throng An" many a dream as I never told; My heart would- lift at a wee bird's song. Or at seein' a whin-bush crowned with gold. An always I'd look back at the say Or the turn o' the road shut out the sight Of the long waves curling into the bay. An" breakin' in foam where the sands is white. I was married young on a dacent man, As many would call a prudent choice. But he never could hear how the river ran Singin' a song in achangin' voice. Nor thought to see on the bay's blue wather A ship with yellow sails Unfurled, Bearin' away a king's young daughter Over the brim of the heavin' world. The hills seem weary now to my feet. The miles be's many, and dreams be's few. The evenin' air's not near so sweet. The birds don't sing as they used to do, An I'm that tired at the top of the hill That I haven't the heart to turn at all. To watch the curlin' breakers fill The wee round bay at Cushendall. . Helen Lanyon. |