Dear Wilde

Dear Wilde, the deeps close o'er thee; and no more
Greet we or mingle on the hither shore.
Where other footsteps now must print the sand.
And other waiters by the margin stand.
Gone; and, alas! too late it wrings my breast,
The word unspoken, and the hand unpress'd:
Yet will affection follow, and believe
The sentient spirit may the thought receive.
Though neither eye to eye the soul impart
Nor answering hand confess the unburthen'd heart.
Gone! and alone rests for me that I strive
In song sincere to keep thy name alive,
Though nothing needing of the aids of rhyme,
While they who knew thee tread the ways of time,
And cherish, ere their race be also run,
Their memories of many a kindness done—
Of the quick look that caught the unspoken need
And back returned to hand's benignant deed
In help and healing, or with ardour high
Infused the might of patriot-sympathy.
And when we all have followed, and the last
Who loved thee living shall have also passed,—
This crumbling castle, from its basement swerved,
Thy pious under-pinning skill preserved;
That carven porch from ruined heaps anew
Dug out, and dedicate by thee to view
Of wond'ring modern men who stand amazed,
To think their Irish fathers ever raised
Works worthy such a care; this sculptured cross
Thou gathered'st piecemeal, every knop and boss
And dragon-twisted symbol, side to side
Laid, and to holy teachings re-applied;
Those noble jewels of the days gone by
The goldsmith's and the penman's art supply,
With rarest products of progressive man
Since civil life in Erin first began.
Described by thee, where'er their destined place,
Whether, still sharing Academic grace
And Cyclopaediac union, they retain
Their portion in the high clear-aired domain
Of arc and sine and critic-judgment heard
Alternate with the searcher's symbol-word,
Historic aids, to little arts unknown,
Heirlooms of all our Past, and all our own,
Or whether, at despotic power's command,
They bow their beauty to a stranger's hand.
Mid various wares in halls remote displayed
To swell a programme or promote a trade:
These all will speak thee: and, dear Wilde, when these.
In course of time, by sw'ift or slow degrees,
Are also perished from the world, and gone,
The green grass of Roscommon will grow on;
And, though our several works of hand and pen
Our names and memories be forgotten then,
Oft as the cattle in the dewy ray
Of tender morn, by Tulsk or Castlerea,
Crop the sweet herbage, or adown the vale
The ruddy milkmaid bears her evening pail;
Oft as the youth to meet his fair one flies
At labour's close, where sheltering hawthorns rise
By Suck's smooth margin; or the merry round
Of dancers foot it to the planxty's sound,
And some warm heart, matched with a mind serene,
Shall drink its full refreshment from the scene,
With thanks to God whose bounty brings to pass
That maids their sweethearts, and that kine their grass
Find by His care provided, and there rise
Soft and sweet thoughts for all beneath the skies;
Then, though unknown, thy spirit shall partake
Refreshment, too, for old communion's sake.