HEIMWEH

New Zealand Tablet, 2 October 1919, Page 27

HEIMWEH

'Tis 1 that am growing weary of the men and women I meet, And I never hope to meet a friend when I go down the street— Never a friend in all the crowd that passes me all day, And myself little caring what they do or what they say. In the sad summer evenings 1 go up the hill alone Till I find a spot where I can dream of the days long flown, For far better company are the dreams that have died Than the hard-faced people so foolish in their pride. I look down from the hilltop and out over the sea With its low voice and its white hands beckoning to me. Ono day I will go down and a tall ship I will find, And I will go home to Ireland where men's hearts are kind. I will open a gate to a. green lawn and walk through the trees— The limetrees and the beeches so dear to the little bees! By a pathway 'mid tho roses I will como to the door, And I will know how good it is to be home once more. —J.K.