The Wayfarer - Padraig Pearse

The beauty of the world hath made me sad,


This beauty that will pass;

Sometimes my heart hath shaken with great joy

To see a leaping squirrel in a tree,

Or a red lady-bird upon a stalk,


Or little rabbits in a field at evening,

Lit by a slanting sun,


Or some green hill where shadows drifted by


Some quiet hill where mountailly man hath sown


And soon would reap; near to the gate of Heaven;


Or children with bare feet upon the sands


Of some ebbed sea, or playing on the streets


Of little towns in Connacht,


Things young and happy.


And then my heart hath told me:


These will pass,


Will pass and change, will die and be no more,


Things bright and green, things young and happy;


And I have gone upon my way


Sorrowful.