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Katharine Tynan - Recompense: (For Lord Kilhacken)
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      That which I saved I lost
      And that I lost I found,
And you are mine, oh tender little ghost,
      Whose grave is holy ground.

      That which I kept is flown,
      So fast the children grow,
The only child I keep to be my own
      I lost long years ago.

      The little ones that stayed
      Slip from me while I cry:
Oh, not so fast, so fast, you golden-head.
      Swift as the wind they fly.

      Not two days are the same.
      To-morrow will not see
To-day`s young children, crested like a flame,
      Gathered about my knee.

      One day a day will dawn
      Will see me dispossessed --
An empty nest whence singing-birds have flown.
      Who shall refill the nest?

      The years run out like sand
      To strip me of my pride;
Then in my hand will steal a clinging hand.
      I keep the child who died.

      God gives and does not lend
      This one lamb of the fold;
And he will need his mother to the end
      And never will grow old.
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