Well, I worked, I toiled, I labored; So, thank God, did many more; But I had a special pity For the place I knew before. It was changed; the old were vanished; Those who had been workers there Were grown old now; and the children, With their sunny eyes and hair, Were a ragged army, fighting Hand to hand with black despair. VII. There were some I sought out, longing For the old familiar face, For the hearty Irish welcome To the well-known corner place; So I saw them, and I found it. But of all whom I had known, I cared most to see the Connors. Their poor cabin stood alone In the deep heart of the valley, By the old gray fairy stone. VIII. They were decent people, holding, Though no richer than the rest, Still a place beyond their neighbors, With a tacit, unconfessed Pride it may have beenthat held them From complaint when things went ill: I might guess when work was slacker, But no shadow seemed to chill The warm welcome which they offered; It was warm and cheerful still. IX. Yet their home was changed: the father And the mother were no more; And the brothers, Phil and Pat rick, Kept starvation from the door. There were many little faces Gathered round the old hearth stone; |