Selected Poetry

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XLIX, Issue 20, 18 May 1922, Page 24

Selected Poetry

My Song (For the N.Z. Tablet.) My song is but a fleeting birth, Transient as a flower Awakened from the pregnant earth To Heaven —a little hour. A blossom blown upon the way Breathing a brief delight— A sunbeam stolen from the day To perish in the night. A voice that falters on the air Beneath the souled lark, To tremble into silence where The light fades into dark. A songster with unsoaring wings, That dares to sing aloud Visions of imaginings And dreams born of a cloud. My song is but a soba smile— Culled from joy and pain, To linger but, a soothing while And sink to earth again. But joy' of song is Heavenly— There is so much to love, Content I muse beneath the tree And list to those above. —Harold Gallagher. Christchurch. V The Sally Ring Within the ring o’ sallies The sthream is dark an’ slow, ’Tis deep an’ dark with ne’er a croon At night below the summer moon Within the ring o’ sallies, Where fairy fingers grow. Within the ring o’ sallies I know the whispers fall ’Tis lonesome there a summer day, ’Tis sthrange an’ lonesome there alway Beside the broken wall Within the ring o’ sallies Where whispers ever call. Within the ring o’ sallies The years come home to die; ► A thousand thousand graves there be That on’y fairies know an’ see, Or maybe you an’ I, Within the ring o’ sallies — An’ there meself would lie. Within the ring o’ sallies I’ll build a house o’ stone. ' A little house all white with lime An’ thatched with sedge o’ yester-time, An’ live me all alone, Within the ring o’ sallies Where I was sometime known. Patrick Kelly, in the Irish World.