To the Rose Upon the Rood of Time

Michael MacLiammoir - Pop
To the Rose Upon the Rood of Time
0 Plays
Duration: 2:07
Lyrics
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days! Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways: Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide; The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold; And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea Sing in their high and lonely melody Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate I find under the boughs of love and hate In all poor foolish things that live a day Eternal beauty wandering on her way Come near, come near, come near—Ah, leave me still A little space for the rose-breath to fill! Lest I no more hear common things that crave; The weak worm hiding down in its small cave The field-mouse running by me in the grass And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass; But seek alone to hear the strange things said By God to the bright hearts of those long dead And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know Come near; I would, before my time to go Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways: Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days
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Credits
- Writers
- William Butler Yeats