Child Thoughts

By William Henry Drummond

WRITTEN TO COMMEMORATE THE ANNIVER-

SARY OF MY BROTHER TOM 'S BIRTHDAY

O memory, take my hand to-day

  And lead me thro' the darkened bridge

Washed by the wild Atlantic spray

  And spanning many a wind-swept ridge

Of sorrow, grief, of love and joy,

  Of youthful hopes and manly fears!

  O! let me cross the bridge of years

And see myself again a boy!

The shadows pass- I see the light,

  O morning light, how clear and strong!

My native skies are smiling bright,

No more I grope my way along,

It comes, the murmur of the tide

  Upon my ear - I hear the cry

  Of wandering sea birds as they fly

In trooping squadrons far and near.

The breeze that blows o'er Mullaghmore

  I feel against my boyish cheek

The white-walled huts that strew the shore

  From Castlegal to old Belleek,

The fisher folk of Donegal,

  Kindly of heart and strong of arm,

  Who plough the ocean's treacherous farm,

How plainly I behold them all!

The thrush's  song, the blackbird's note,

  The wren within the hawthorn hedge,

The robin 's swelling vibrant throat,

  The leveret  crouching in the sedge!

In those dear days, ah! what was school?

  When Nature made our pulses thrill!

  The lessons we remember still

Were learnt at Nature's own footstool!

"The hounds are out!  the beagles chase

  Along the slopes of Tawley 's plain!"

I rise and follow in the race

  Till fox, or hare, or both are slain,

With heart ablaze, I loose the reins

  Of all my childish fierce desire,

  My faith! 't is Ireland plants the fire

And iron in her children's veins!

The mountain linnet whistles sweet

  Among the gorse of summer-time,

As up the hill with eager feet

  The sun of morning sees me climb

Until at last I sink to rest

  Where heatherbells swing to the tune

  That Benbo breezes softly croon-

A tired child on the mother's breast!

And now in wisdom's riper years,

  Ah, wisdom! what a price we pay

Of sorrow, grief, of smiles and tears,

  Before we reach that wiser day!

We meet to greet in joy and mirth

  The white-haired parent of us all

Our childhood's memories to recall

And bless the land that gave us birth.