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THE LAST HARPER, by                    
First Line: He stood in the blood-red wash of a towering sunset
Last Line: "I will go home to sleep now -- sleep is best."
Alternate Author Name(s): Miller, J. Corson
Subject(s): Harps; Musical Instruments; Lyres


He stood in the blood-red wash of a towering sunset,
The great sun's fingers fondled his face and his hair;
He said: "They are gone -- the hosts that were golden with glory,
The Harpers of Truagh that sang on the evening air."

"They have passed like the wind on the withering gorse of Glenmoiragh --
The rose-lipped women with eyes as blue as the dawn;
O where are the gay-hearted players -- the fiddlers of Galway?
They have passed with the wavering Light of the Gael, they are gone."

"There's a shadow on the sun, my lad, we will kneel in the twilight,
I see the milk-white stallion fade in the west;
The warriors that swung long swords on the marches of Ulster,
Tonight, with Edward de Bruce, they take their rest."

We are doomed to the dust -- it is well -- the Great Race passes,
Warrior and Harper and Poet -- where the banshee cries;
I will cover my face with the snow and the hoar-frost of winter,
I will pray for the curtain of blindness to cover my eyes."

Then bent with the iron of years, as the dusk was falling,
He knelt, and he peered afar to the menacing west;
He said: "I am old, I see a Proud Race passing,
I will go home to sleep now -- sleep is best."





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