Make your own free website on

Back to Thumbnails

Love Was True to Me

Love was true to me,
True and tender;
I who ought to be
Love's defender,
Let the cold winds blow
Till they chilled him;
Let the winds and snow
Shroud him-and I know
That I killed him.

Years he cried to me
To be kinder;
I was blind to see
And grew blinder,
Years with soft hands raised
Fondly reaching,
Wept and prayed and praised,
Still beseeching.

When he died I woke,
God! How lonely,
When the grey dawn broke
On one only.

Now beside Love's grave
I am kneeling;
All he sought and gave
I am feeling.

-John Boyle O'Reilly

Back to My Angel
Back to Irish Poetry
Without You
Reasons to Go
Contact Me

You are the person to visit

This amazing background was made using the fantastic art of Luis Royo

Thanks to Theme World for the font Diamond Gothic