Irish Jesuit Province

Dreams in ExileAuthor(s): Kathleen StephensSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 39, No. 462 (Dec., 1911), pp. 677-678Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20503114 .

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DREAMS IN EXILE 677

imaginary traveller. I think it was one of the most thrilling moments of my life. But my heart was in my mouth. I returned home trembling with fright, and perhaps a trifle doubtful whether after all I would become a knight of the road.'"

" Might we not both be regarded as highwaymen," I said laughingly, "seeing that we are so fond of the high road and the open ?"

" Green fields for me in these days of hooters and petrol stench," he replied; " green meadows where the motor cannot come, yes, even thotugh the way be longer by a mile."

So in great content we passed into the meadows.

DAVID BEARNE, S.J.

DREAMS IN EXILE

IN the city streets as I go my way, I have many a dream both grave and gay,

Dreams that bring to the dusty street Glimpses and thoughts of things wild and sweet; Visions of stormy seas purple and grey, The silver of sail-boats crossing the bay, A mountain range lit by the sunset's fire, Or a stretch of rain-washed whin and briar.

I hear at times a sea-gull cry, And straightway I see a windy sky; I catch the lilt of a sailor's song,

And it stays with me the whole night long; While down the noisy, airless street Comes the smell of sea-weed strong and sweet, And my hot heart cries to my restless feet To be up and away where the wild wlinds meet.

So in these dreams I go far, far back, By many a well-known, well-lovedI track; Back to the road running dusty and white, Out past the mill and on up the height,

VoL. xxxxx.-No. 462. 46

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678 THE IRISH MONTHLY

Across the burrow where rabbits flee, Across two hills, and then the sea! And I wander beside it the whole day long, And I want no comrade but its song.

I seek a bed in the wind-blown grass Where the tall flags bow as the night-winds pass, While the shining stars keep watch and ward And the young moon's rays on the thymy sward Steal from my heart its wild delight And charm me to sleep like a kind ' Good niight' ! Though the song of the sea still makes its way Through my deepest dreams till the dawning of day.

And, when I awake, I hear the call For which I would barter wealth and all, The call that sends me with hasting feet Away from the jostling city street, To walk the road in shine and shade And know no clock but what God has made; To live by the season's changing lhght From the first green leaves to the frost at night;

From the cuckoo's call on a sunny hill To the robin's song when the woods grow still; From the starry primrose in the hedge To the flaming vines on rock and ledge; From the red and white of the twisted thorn To the rippling gold of a field of corn. Oh, who'd be content within city walls

When daffodils bloom and the long road calls ?

But all too soon the spell is o'er, And I wake in the city's whirl and roar; The road is gone, the call is still, But the dreams remain to work my will; And with their aid, though far from home, I go and come, and am free to roam, In rain and in sunshine, far and wide,

Through the old green land where fairies bide.

New York, U.S.A. KATHLEEN STEPHENS.

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