Ballads of Peace in War | Page 4

little Dan O'Shea,

"Though never I come from the picket's line,
But a faded suit of grey:

Yet over my death will the road be safe,
And the regiment march
away."
"In a mother's name, I bless thee, lad,"
The Colonel drew him near:

"But first in the name of God," said Dan,
"And then is my mother's
dear---
Her own good lips that taught me well,
With the Cross of
Christ no fear."
Quickly he rode by valley and hill,
On to the outpost line,
Till the
pickets arise by wall and mound,
And the levelled muskets shine;

"Halt!" they cried, "count three to death,
Or give us the countersign."
Lightly the lad leaped from his steed,
No fear was in his sigh,
But a
mother's face and a home he loved
Under an Irish sky:
He made the
Sign of the Cross and stood,
Bravely he stood to die.
Lips in a prayer at the blessed Sign,
And calmly he looked around,

And wonder seized his waiting soul
To hear no musket sound,
But
only the pickets calling to him,
Heartily up the mound.
For this was the order of Beauregard
Around his camp that day---

The Sign of the Cross was countersign,
(And a blessing to Dan
O'Shea)
And the word came quick to Colonel Smith
For the muster
of the grey.
3
A HILL O' LIGHTS

Turn from Kerry crossroads and leave the wooded dells,
Take the
mountain path and find where Tip O'Leary dwells;
Tip O'Leary is the
name, I sing it all day long,
And every bird whose heart is wise will
have it for a song.
Tip O'Leary keeps the lights of many lamps aglow,
Little matters it to
him the seasons come or go,
Sure if spring is in the air his hedges are
abloom,
And fairy buds like candles shine across his garden room.
Roses in the June days are light the miles around,
Tapers of the
fuchsias move along the August ground,
Sumachs light the flaming
torches by October's grave
And like the campfires on the hills the
oaks and maples wave.
All the lights but only one die out when summer goes,
One that Tip
O'Leary keeps is brighter than the rose,
Through the window comes
the bloom on any winter night,
And every sense goes wild to it, soft
and sweet and bright.
Lamps are fair that have the light from flowers all day long, When the
birds are here and sing the Tip O'Leary song,
But a winter window is
the fairest rose of all,
When Tip O'Leary's hearth is lit and lamps
upon the wall.
4
OFF TO THE WAR
(For Jack)
In a little ship and down the bay,
Out to the calling sea,
A young
brave lad sailed off today,
To the one great war went he:
The one
long war all men must know
Greater than land or gold,
Soul is the
prince and flesh the foe
Of a kingdom Christ will hold.
With arms of faith and hope well-wrought
The brave lad went away,


And the voice of Christ fills all his thought,
Under two hands that
pray:
The tender love of a mother's hands
That guarded all his years,

Fitted the armor, plate and bands,
And blessed them with her tears.
Older than Rhodes and Ascalon
And the farthest forts of sea,
Is the
Master voice that calls him on
>From the hills in Galilee:
>From
hills where Christ in gentle guise
Called, as He calls again,
With
His heart of love and His love-lit eyes
Unto His warrior men.
Christ with the brave young lad to-day
Who goes to the sweet
command,
Strengthen his heart wherever the way,
Whether he
march or stand:
And whether he die in a peaceful cell,
Or alone in
the lonely night,
The Cross of Christ shall keep him well,
And be
his death's delight.
5
THE TOWERS OF HOLY CROSS
(For W. M. Letts)
The roads look up to Holy Cross,
The sturdy towers look down,

And show a kindly word to all
Who pass by Worcester Town;
And
once you'd see the boys at play,
Or marching cap and gown.
The gallant towers at Holy Cross
Are silent night and day,
A few
young lads are left behind
Who still may take their play;
The Cross
and Flag look out afar
For them that went away.
And mine are gone, says Beaven Hall,
To camps by hill and plain,

And mine along by Newport Sea,
Says the high tower of O'Kane;
I
follow mine, Alumni calls,
Across the watery main.
Their sires were in the old Brigade
That won at Fontenoy,
Stood
true at Washington's right hand,
that were his faith and joy:
>From

Holy Cross to Fredericksburg
Is many a gallant boy.
Then God be with you, says the Cross,
And the brave towers looking
down;
I'll be your cloth, sings out the Flag,
For other cap and gown,

And may we see you safe again,
On the hills of Worcester Town.
6
ALWAYS MAYTIME
(for Gerry)
When May has spent its little song,
And richer comes the June,

Through former eyes the heart will long
For May again in tune;

Though large with promise hope may be,
By future visions cast,

Our memoried thoughts will yearn to see
The happy little past.
And you, my loyal little friend,
(From May to June you go),
What
years of loyalty