Monday, November 29, 2021

The Banshee

How oft has the Banshee cried,
How oft has death untied
Bright links that Glory wove,
Sweet bonds entwined by Love!
Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth;
Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth;
Long may the fair and brave
Sigh o'er the hero's grave.

We're fallen upon gloomy days!
Star after star decays,
Every bright name, that shed
Light o'er the land, is fled.
Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth
Lost joy, or hope that ne'er returneth;
But brightly flows the tear,
Wept o'er a hero's bier.

Quenched are our beacon lights--
Thou, of the Hundred Fights!
Thou, on whose burning tongue
Truth, peace, and freedom hung!
Both mute,--but long as valor shineth,
Or Mercy's soul at war repineth,
So long shall Erin's pride
Tell how they lived and died.

Sir Thomas Moore



4 comments:

Sarwyn said...

Such an artful gust of wind.

Rot said...

agreed.

Holy Tarra said...

I adore this shot. Perfect amount of wind to make that draping float. My attempts at flying ghosts usually involved a fan placed in an inconvenient spot to get anywhere near the right movement.

Rot said...

I like the idea of using a fan.
Would be neat to experiment with a fan and a Ghost in an upstairs window.