Excerpt from Hills of Dublin To break great branches of the blossoming thorn; Or strip, and in the cooling water play, Or gather cowslips; till at dusk, footworn, Returning home, each court and narrow way Is fresh with flowers from the meadows borne But in the stifling slum they soon decay. To-night no keen wind coming from the sea Can medicine her great and growing pain; Nor any far-plucked flower, beloved of bee, Upon her forehead hide the heavy stain Disgrace of a dishonoured century; Nor aught refresh her - though desired rain May wash the choking dust from every tree Till the king's son shall sit at home again. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.