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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37214-8.txt b/37214-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea688a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/37214-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1730 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Seumas Beg, by James Stephens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of Seumas Beg + The Rocky Road to Dublin + +Author: James Stephens + +Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37214] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG + + +THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN + + +BY + +JAMES STEPHENS + + + +AUTHOR OF + +'THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER,' 'THE HILL OF VISION,' + 'THE CROCK OF GOLD,' ETC. + + + + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED + +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON + +1915 + + + + +COPYRIGHT + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG + + The Cherry Tree + Breakfast Time + In the Orchard + Day and Night + The Devil's Bag + A Visit from Abroad + The Wood of Flowers + The White Window + Midnight + Behind the Hill + The Secret + April Showers + The Turn of the Road + The Coral Island + The Cow + The Old Man + What the Snake saw + The Horse + The Apple Tree + The Appointment + Check + When I was Young + + +THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN + + The Patriot's Bed + Grafton Street + Portobello Bridge + York Street + The Fifteen Acres + College Green + Mount Street + Westland Row + The College of Science + The Canal Bank + By Ana Liffey + From Hawk and Kite + The Gombeen-man + Beresford Place + At the Fair + The Fur Coat + Dublin Men + O'Connell Bridge + Charlotte Street + George's Street + Holles Street + Katty Gollagher + Cork Hill + The Piper + The Shadow + Custom House Quay + Stephen's Green + The College of Surgeons + Merrion Square + The Bare Trees + Dunphy's Corner + The Dodder Bank + White Fields + The Paps of Dana + Donnelly's Orchard + Donnybrook + + + + + THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG + + + + THE CHERRY TREE + + _Come from your bed my drowsy gentleman! + And you, fair lady, rise and braid your hair, + And let the children wash, if wash they can; + If not, assist you them, and make them fair + As is the morning and the morning sky, + And every tree and bush and bird in air._ + + _The sun climbed on the heights three hours ago, + He laughed above the hills and they were glad; + With bubbled pearl he made the rivers flow + And laced their mists in silver, and he clad + The meads in fragrant pomp of green and gold, + And bade the world forget it had been sad._ + + _So lift yourself, good sir! and you, sweet dame, + Unlash your evening eyes of pious grey; + Call on the children by each loved name, + And set them on the grass and let them play; + And play with them a while, and sing with them + Beneath the cherry bush a roundelay._ + + + + + BREAKFAST TIME + + The sun is always in the sky + Whenever I get out of bed, + And I often wonder why + It's never late.--My sister said + She did not know who did the trick, + And that she did not care a bit, + And I should eat my porridge quick. + ... I think it's mother wakens it. + + + + + IN THE ORCHARD + + There was a giant by the Orchard Wall + Peeping about on this side and on that, + And feeling in the trees: he was as tall + As the big apple tree, and twice as fat: + His beard was long, and bristly-black, and there + Were leaves and bits of grass stuck in his hair. + + He held a great big club in his right hand, + And with the other felt in every tree + For something that he wanted. You could stand + Beside him and not reach up to his knee + So mighty big he was--I feared he would + Turn round, and trample down to where I stood. + + I tried to get away, but, as I slid + Under a bush, he saw me, and he bent + Far down and said, "_Where is the Princess hid?_" + I pointed to a place, and off he went-- + But while he searched I turned and simply flew + Round by the lilac bushes back to you. + + + + + DAY AND NIGHT + + When the bright eyes of the day + Open on the dusk, to see + Mist and shadow fade away + And the sun shine merrily, + Then I leave my bed and run + Out to frolic in the sun. + + Through the sunny hours I play + Where the stream is wandering, + Plucking daisies by the way; + And I laugh and dance and sing, + While the birds fly here and there + Singing on the sunny air. + + When the night comes, cold and slow, + And the sad moon walks the sky, + When the whispering wind says "_Boh, + Little boy!_" and makes me cry, + By my mother I am led + Home again and put to bed. + + + + + THE DEVIL'S BAG + + I saw the Devil walking down the lane + Behind our house.--There was a heavy bag + Strapped tightly on his shoulders, and the rain + Sizzled when it hit him. He picked a rag + Up from the ground and put it in his sack, + And grinned and rubbed his hands. + There was a thing + Moving inside the bag upon his back-- + It must have been a soul! I saw it fling + And twist about inside, and not a hole + Or cranny for escape! Oh, it was sad! + I cried, and shouted out, "_Let out that soul!_" + But he turned round, and, sure, his face went mad, + And twisted up and down, and he said "_Hell!_" + And ran away.... Oh, mammy! I'm not well. + + + + + A VISIT FROM ABROAD + + A speck went blowing up against the sky + As little as a leaf: then it drew near + And broadened.--"It's a bird," said I, + And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer! + It grew up from a speck into a blot, + And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down + All crumply, and waggled such a lot + I thought the thing would fall.--It was a brown + Old carpet where a man was sitting snug + Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew + A big hole in the middle of the rug, + And kept on peeping everywhere to know + Who might be coming--then he gave a twist + And flew away.... I fired at him but missed. + + + + + THE WOOD OF FLOWERS + + I went to the Wood of Flowers + (No one was with me); + I was there alone for hours. + I was happy as could be + In the Wood of Flowers. + + There was grass on the ground, + There were buds on the tree, + And the wind had a sound + Of such gaiety, + That I was as happy + As happy could be, + In the Wood of Flowers. + + + + + THE WHITE WINDOW + + The moon comes every night to peep + Through the window where I lie, + And I pretend to be asleep; + But I watch the moon as it goes by, + And it never makes a sound. + + It stands and stares, and then it goes + To the house that's next to me, + Stealing on its tippy-toes, + To peep at folk asleep maybe; + And it never makes a sound. + + + + + MIDNIGHT + + And then I wakened up in such a fright; + I thought I heard a movement in the room + But did not dare to look; I snuggled right + Down underneath the bedclothes--then the boom + Of a tremendous voice said, "_Sit up, lad, + And let me see your face._" So up I sat, + Although I didn't want to. I was glad + I did though, for it was an angel that + Had called me, and he said, he'd come to know + Was I the boy who wouldn't say his prayers + Nor do his sums, and that I'd have to go + Straight down to hell because of such affairs. + ... I said I'd be converted and do good + If he would let me off--he said he would. + + + + + BEHIND THE HILL + + Behind the hill I met a man in green + Who asked me if my mother had gone out? + I said she had. He asked me had I seen + His castle where the people sing and shout + From dawn to dark, and told me that he had + A crock of gold inside a hollow tree, + And I could have it.--I wanted money bad + To buy a sword with, and I thought that he + Would keep his solemn word; so, off we went. + He said he had a pound hid in the crock, + And owned the castle too, and paid no rent + To any one, and that you had to knock + Five hundred times. I asked, "_Who reckoned up?_" + And he said, "_You insulting little pup!_" + + + + + THE SECRET + + I was frightened, for a wind + Crept along the grass to say + Something that was in my mind + Yesterday-- + + Something that I did not know + Could be found out by the wind, + I had buried it so low + In my mind. + + + + + APRIL SHOWERS + + The leaves are fresh after the rain, + The air is cool and clear, + The sun is shining warm again, + The sparrows hopping in the lane + Are brisk and full of cheer. + + And that is why we dance and play, + And that is why we sing, + Calling out in voices gay, + We will not go to school to-day + Or learn anything: + + It is a happy thing, I say, + To be alive on such a day. + + + + + THE TURN OF THE ROAD + + I was playing with my hoop along the road + Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly, + There came a shout.--I ran away and stowed + Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see + What made the noise, and then, around the bend, + I saw a woman running. She was old + And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.--The end + Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled + Right off her, and her hair fell down.--Her face + Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick, + And she was talking queer. "_O God of Grace!_" + Said she, "_where is the child?_" and flew back quick + The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands; + ... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands. + + + + + THE CORAL ISLAND + + His arms were round a chest of oaken wood, + It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed + An awful weight. After a while he stood + And I stole near to him.--His white eyes gleamed + As he peeped secretly about; he laid + The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew + A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade + Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew + In all directions underneath a tree, + And when the hole was deep he put the box + Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly, + Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox + He crept among the trees.... I went next day + To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way. + + + + + THE COW + + Cow, Cow! + I and thou + Are looking at each other's eyes + You are lying on the grass + Eating every time I pass, + And you do not seem to be + Ever in perplexity: + You are good I'm sure, and not + Fit for nothing but the pot: + For your bearing is so kind, + And your quietness so wise: + Cow, Cow! + I and thou + Are looking at each other's eyes. + + + + + THE OLD MAN + + An old man sat beneath a tree + Alone; + So still was he + That, if he had been carved in stone, + He could not be + More quiet or more cold: + He was an ancient man + More than + A thousand ages old. + + + + + WHAT THE SNAKE SAW + + A little girl and a big ugly man + Went down the road. The girl was crying + And asking to go home, but when she ran + He hit her on the head and sent her flying, + And called her a young imp, and said he'd break + Her neck unless she went with him, and then + He smacked her on the cheek.--I was a snake + At that time crawling through a robber's den, + And diamonds were sticking to my tongue-- + (That's the best dodge), but when I saw the way + He beat the little girl I up and flung + A stone at him. My aim was bad that day + Because I hit the girl ... and she did sing! + But he jumped round and cursed like anything. + + + + + THE HORSE + + A sparrow hopped about the street, + And he was not a bit afraid; + He flew between a horse's feet, + And ate his supper undismayed: + I think myself the horse knew well + The bird came for the grains that fell. + + For his eye was looking down, + And he danced the corn about + In his nose-bag, till the brown + Grains of corn were tumbled out; + And I fancy that he said, + "Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!" + + The driver then came back again, + He climbed into the heavy dray; + And he tightened up the rein, + Cracked his whip and drove away. + But when the horse's ribs were hit, + The sparrow did not care a bit. + + + + + THE APPLE TREE + + I was hiding in the crooked apple tree, + Scouting for Indians, when a man came; + I thought it was an Indian, for he + Was running like the wind.--There was a flame + Of sunlight on his hand as he drew near, + And then I saw a knife gripped in his fist. + He panted like a horse; his eyes were queer, + Wide-open, staring frightfully, and, hist! + His mouth stared open like another eye, + And all his hair was matted down with sweat. + I crouched among the leaves for fear he'd spy + Where I was hiding, so he did not get + His awful eyes on me, but like the wind + He fled as if he heard something behind. + + + + + THE APPOINTMENT + + Tree! you are years standing there, + Gripping tight to the side of the hill, + And your branches are spread on the air, + While you stand so sad and so still, + And you do not complain + When you're wet with the rain, + Though I think you have often been ill. + + I would like (but it could not be done, + So you must not keep me to my word) + To take you away when the sun + Goes down, and the breezes are stirred, + And hug you in bed + With myself, till you said + That to sleep on a hill was absurd. + + O beautiful tree! when the night + Is dark, and the winds come and scold, + I would love then to cuddle you tight, + For I fear you will die of the cold; + But you are so tall, + And my bed is so small, + That it could not be done, I am told. + + My mother is calling for me, + And the baby is wanting to play, + I shall have to go home now, you see, + But I'll give you a kiss if I may: + I would stay if I could, + But a child must be good, + So I must, darling tree, go away. + + I will leave you my pencil and slate, + And this little pin from my frock; + But now I must go, for it's late, + And my mother is rattling the lock: + So good-bye, darling dear, + I'll come back, never fear, + In the morning at seven o'clock. + + + + + CHECK + + The night was creeping on the ground; + She crept and did not make a sound + Until she reached the tree, and then + She covered it, and stole again + Along the grass beside the wall. + + I heard the rustle of her shawl + As she threw blackness everywhere + Upon the sky and ground and air, + And in the room where I was hid: + But no matter what she did + To everything that was without, + She could not put my candle out. + + So I stared at the night, and she + Stared back solemnly at me. + + + + + WHEN I WAS YOUNG + + I will not know when I am dead + If sun or moon is overhead; + I'll stretch out flat without a sound + Inside a box beneath the ground, + And never rise again to see + Branches lifting on a tree, + Nor hear the song the finches sing + In the spring. + + I'll not, while sunny ages go, + Lift a hand or wag a toe; + But in a wooden box will be + Hidden for eternity + From sea and sun, from sight and sound, + From touch of people, voice of friend, + From all that makes my heart to bound, + Denying such an end: + It is so strange--I wonder why + People die! + + + + + THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN + + + + THE PATRIOT'S BED + + When a son you shall desire, + Pray to water and to fire; + But when you would have a daughter, + Pray to fire and then to water. + + + + + GRAFTON STREET + + At four o'clock, in dainty talk, + Lords and lovely ladies walk, + With a gentle dignity, + From the Green to Trinity. + + And at five o'clock they take, + In a Café, tea and cake, + Then they call a carriage, and + Drive back into fairyland. + + + + + PORTOBELLO BRIDGE + + Silver stars shine peacefully, + The Canal is silver, the + Poplars bear with modest grace + Gossamers of silver lace, + And the turf bank wears with glee + Black and silver filigree. + + + + + YORK STREET + + If in winter you shall drive + Birds from crumbs, you shall not thrive; + But if you feed them, they will fly + To sing it sweetly on the sky. + + So throw up the window, and + Scatter with a lavish hand, + Taking care you do not spill + Flower-pots from the window-sill, + + Singing, "Ireland shall be free + From the centre to the sea"; + Singing bravely once again, + "We are Dan O'Connell's Men." + + + + + THE FIFTEEN ACRES + + I cling and swing + On a branch, or sing + Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O: + Or fling my wing + On the air, and bring + To sleepier birds a warning, O: + That the night's in flight, + And the sun's in sight, + And the dew is the grass adorning, O: + And the green leaves swing + As I sing, sing, sing, + Up by the river, + Down the dell, + To the little wee nest, + Where the big tree fell, + So early in the morning, O. + + I flit and twit + In the sun for a bit + When his light so bright is shining, O: + Or sit and fit + My plumes, or knit + Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O: + And she with glee + Shows unto me + Underneath her wings reclining, O: + And I sing that Peg + Has an egg, egg, egg, + Up by the oat-field, + Round the mill, + Past the meadow, + Down the hill, + So early in the morning, O. + + I stoop and swoop + On the air, or loop + Through the trees, and then go soaring, O + To group with a troop + On the gusty poop + While the wind behind is roaring, O: + I skim and swim + By a cloud's red rim + And up to the azure flooring, O: + And my wide wings drip + As I slip, slip, slip + Down through the rain-drops, + Back where Peg + Broods in the nest + On the little white egg, + So early in the morning, O. + + + + + COLLEGE GREEN + + When you meet an ancient man, + Be as silent as you can; + So when old age comes to you, + Courtesies shall gather too. + + And King Billy's horse will start + From our street and from our heart, + When each Irishman shall be + Perfected in courtesy. + + + + + MOUNT STREET + + Here and there on the wings of night + A fleck of blue and purple light, + A scrap of cloud, a bird, a star, + A comet hurrying afar + On the abyss, and the moon + Standing in her silver shoon. + + On the summit of the sky, + Delicate and proud and high, + The silver moon on a silver sea + Spins her silver broidery + While the stars send down a light + Here and there on the wings of night. + + + + + WESTLAND ROW + + Every Sunday there's a throng + Of pretty girls, who trot along + In a pious, breathless state + (They are nearly always late) + To the Chapel, where they pray + For the sins of Saturday. + + They have frocks of white and blue, + Yellow sashes they have too, + And red ribbons show each head + Tenderly is ringleted; + And the bell rings loud, and the + Railway whistles urgently. + + After Chapel they will go, + Walking delicately slow, + Telling still how Father John + Is so good to look upon, + And such other grave affairs + As they thought of during prayers. + + + + + THE COLLEGE OF SCIENCE + + Who knows a thing and will not tell + Shall spend eternity in hell; + But he who learns and teaches free + In heaven spends eternity. + + Around the Leinster Lawn we go + Into Molesworth Street, and so + To Saint Stephen's Green, where we + Hang a banner on a tree. + + + + + THE CANAL BANK + + I know a girl, + And a girl knows me, + And the owl says, what? + And the owl says, who? + But what we know + We both agree + That nobody else + Shall hear or see, + It's all between + Herself and me: + To wit? said the owl, + To woo, said I, + To-what, to-wit, to-woo! + + + + + BY ANA LIFFEY + + If you come to live with me, + I will sing so heartily + In your honour that you will + Stay to wonder at my skill. + + In your honour I will fill + The world with songs of triumph, till + You and I and Time are old + Pipers of the Age of Gold. + + Time and you and I will hold, + Everywhere by field and fold, + Concerts of content, and be + Known afar for jollity. + + Everywhere by fold and field + We will wander well-agreed; + So I sing right heartily, + Come along and live with me. + + + + + FROM HAWK AND KITE + + Poor, frightened, fluttered, silent one! + If we had seen your nest of clay + We would have passed it by, and gone, + Nor frightened you away. + + For there are others guard a nest + From hawk and kite and lurking foe, + And more despair is in their breast + Than you can ever know. + + Shield the nests where'er they be, + On the ground or on the tree; + Guard the poor from treachery. + + + + + THE GOMBEEN-MAN + + I put the sky into my pocket, + And the sea into my locket, + And into my breeches-band + I put the land. + + So I was trotting off to share, + Among my comrades in the lair, + Our profits, when a peeler came + And took my name. + + And now I'm in the County Gaol! + Will anybody be my bail? + Will anybody be my bail + And take me from the County Gaol? + + + + + BERESFORD PLACE + + The man who has and does not give + Shall break his neck, and cease to live; + But he who gives without a care + Shall gather rubies from the air. + + + + + AT THE FAIR + + The lark shall never come to say + To a gombeen-man, "Good day," + And the lark shall never cry + To a kindly man, "Good-bye." + + See the greedy gombeen-man + Taking everything he can + From man and woman, dog and cat-- + And the lark does not like that. + + + + + THE FUR COAT + + I walked out in my Coat of Pride, + I looked about on every side, + And said the mountains should not be + Just where they were, and that the sea + Was badly placed, and that the beech + Should be an oak--and then from each + I turned in dignity as if + They were not there: I sniffed a sniff, + And climbed upon my sunny shelf, + And sneezed a while, and scratched myself. + + + + + DUBLIN MEN + + A Dublin man will frown when he + Hears a tale of villainy; + But when a kindness you relate, + He swings and whistles on the gate. + + + + + O'CONNELL BRIDGE + + In Dublin town the people see + Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously, + They are finer, I declare, + Than the clouds of anywhere. + + A swirl of blue and red and green, + A stream of blinding gold, a sheen + From silver hill and pearly ridge + Comes each evening on the bridge. + + So when you walk in a field, look down, + Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown, + But in a city look always high + And watch the beautiful clouds go by. + + + + + CHARLOTTE STREET + + Inside a soap shop, down a lane, + A big bee buzzed on a window-pane, + + Climbing the cold glass up and down; + Bee, what brought you into town? + + You are tired and hungry and scarce alive, + Poor old Shaggy-Tail! where's your hive? + + + + + GEORGE'S STREET + + Listen! if but women were + Half as kind as they are fair, + There would be an end to all + Miseries that do befall. + + Cloud and wind would run together + In a dance of sunny weather, + And the happy trees would throw + Gifts to travellers below. + + Then the lion, meek and mild, + With the lamb would, side by side, + Couch him friendly, and would be + Innocent of enmity. + + Then the Frozen Pole would go, + Tossing off his fields of snow, + And would shake delighted feet + With the girls of George's Street. + + These, if women only were + Half as kind as they are fair. + + + + + HOLLES STREET + + Through the air, + Everywhere, the rain is falling; + Brawling on house and tree: + On every place that you can see + The rain drops go; + The roofs are wet, the walls, the ground below. + + Midnight has come; + Now all the people stretch them blind and dumb + Each in a bed + Save I, who sit and listen overhead + Unto the rain + Splashing upon the roof and window-pane. + + Midnight! and I + Can get no sleep, nor can the sky. + + + + + KATTY GOLLAGHER + + The hill is bare: I only find + The grass, the sky, and one small tree + Tossing wildly on the wind; + And that is all there is to see: + A tree, a hill, a wind, a sky + Where nothing ever passes by. + + + + + CORK HILL + + Come all ye happy children, and + Gather round me hand in hand, + Dancing to the merry cry, + "See the Robbers Passing By." + + Past the Castle we will dance + To the Mansion House, and prance + Back by George's Street and cry, + "See the Robbers Passing By." + + Gather then ye children all + Into ranks processional, + Marching to the merry cry, + "See the Robbers Passing By." + + + + + THE PIPER + + Shepherd! while the lambs do feed, + And you rest beneath a tree, + Pipe upon an oaten reed + Merrily and merrily. + + Should it rain do not forbear-- + Rain comes from the happy sky-- + Tune us now a quiet air + Till the shower passes by. + + Back the sun will come in gold! + Pipe away, my dear, until + Evening brings the lambs to fold-- + You may weep then if you will. + + + + + THE SHADOW + + Silence comes upon the night, + Gone is all the cheerful day, + The moon has disappeared from sight, + Every star has gone away. + + Sinking through the void, and thence + Disappearing, star and sky, + In the stern and black immense + That has blinded every eye. + + Silence crouches on the land, + In the street a shadow lies + Cloaked in velvet wrappings, and + With a mask upon her eyes. + + Anonymous and terrible + Mother of the primal ray, + Only night because thou art + In thyself excess of day. + + + + + CUSTOM HOUSE QUAY + + When a Dublin man shall say, + "Give me a little bread, I pray," + If you do not give him bread + You will be hungry when he is fed. + + And let no priest or magistrate + Scowl upon the poor man's plate, + Asking him the question sly + To which no one can reply. + + + + + STEPHEN'S GREEN + + The wind stood up and gave a shout; + He whistled on his fingers, and + Kicked the withered leaves about + And thumped the branches with his hand, + And said he'd kill, and kill, and kill, + And so he will, and so he will. + + + + + THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS + + As I stood at the door + Sheltered out of the wind, + Something flew in + Which I hardly could find. + + In the dim, gloomy doorway + I searched till I found + A dry withered leaf + Lying down on the ground. + + With thin, pointed claws + And a dry dusty skin,-- + Sure a hall is no place + For a leaf to be in! + + Oh where is your tree, + And your summer and all, + Poor dusty leaf + Whistled into a hall? + + + + + MERRION SQUARE + + Grey clouds on the tinted sky, + A drifting moon, a quiet breeze + Drooping mournfully to cry + In the branches of the trees. + + The crying wind, the sighing trees, + The ruffled stars, the darkness falling + Down the sky, and on the breeze + A belated linnet calling. + + + + + THE BARE TREES + + Unfortunates, on the bare tree! + I mourn for ye + That have no place to house, + But on those winter-white cold boughs + To sit, + (How far apart ye sit) + And brood + In this wide, wintry solitude + That has no song at all to hearten it. + + Fly away, little birds! + Fly away to Spain, + Stay there all the winter + Then come back again; + Come back in the summer + When the leaves are thick; + Little weeny cold birds + Fly away quick. + + + + + DUNPHY'S CORNER + + Pacing slowly down the road + Black horses go, with load on load + Of Dublin people dead, and they + Will be covered up in clay. + + Ere their friends go home, each man + Will shake his head, and drain a can + To Dublin people we will meet + Not again in Grafton Street. + + + + + THE DODDER BANK + + When no flower is nigh, you might + Spy a weed with deep delight; + So, when far from saints and bliss, + God might give a sin a kiss. + + + + + WHITE FIELDS + + In the winter children go + Walking in the fields of snow + Where there is no grass at all, + And the top of every wall, + Every fence, and every tree + Is as white as white can be. + + Pointing out the way they came, + (Every one of them the same) + All across the fields there be + Prints in silver filigree; + And their mothers find them so + By the footprints in the snow. + + + + + THE PAPS OF DANA + + The mountains stand and stare around, + They are far too proud to speak; + Altho' they're rooted in the ground, + Up they go, peak after peak, + Beyond the tallest tree, and still + Soaring over house and hill + Until you'd think they'd never stop + Going up, top over top, + Into the clouds-- + Still I mark + That a sparrow or a lark + Flying just as high, can sing + As if he'd not done anything. + + I think the mountains ought to be + Taught a little modesty. + + + + + DONNELLY'S ORCHARD + + He who locks a gate doth close + Pity's heart against his woes; + But who opens one shall find + God is standing just behind. + + + + + DONNYBROOK + + I saw the moon so broad and bright + Sailing high on a frosty night: + + And the air swung far and far between + The silver disc and the orb of green: + + While here and there a wisp of white + Cloud-film swam on the misty light: + + And crusted thickly on the sky, + High and higher and yet more high, + + Were golden star-points dusted through + The great, wide, silent vault of blue: + + Then I said to me--God is good + And the world is fair--and where I stood + + I knelt me down and bent my head, + And said my prayers, and went to bed. + + + + + THE END + + + + + _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh._ + + + + +_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ + + +THE CROCK OF GOLD. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. + +_THE PALL MALL GAZETTE_.--"A wise, beautiful, and humorous book.... If +you could have given Sterne a soul and made him a poet he might have +produced _The Crock of Gold_." + + +THE DEMI-GODS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. + +_STANDARD_.--"The book is full of fine knowledge and fantasies in every +shade of gaiety and gravity, and we would call its author a magician +did we not feel that everything he writes is perfectly natural to +him.... This book would prove, if proof were needed, that Mr. +Stephens's _Crock of Gold_ was not a mere _tour de force_, but a real +ebullition of genius and a token of all the good work that was to come." + + +HERE ARE LADIES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. + +_THE TIMES_.--"A story may have many and diverse effects upon its +reader. It may leave him smiling, laughing, frowning (perhaps +weeping), angry, perplexed, exalted, afraid. The bits of stories in +_Here are Ladies_, the sketches, essays, snapshots, call them what you +will, will leave him for the most part happy and hungry--for more." + + +THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. + +_PUNCH_.--"A little gem.... It is a very long time indeed since we +read such a human, satisfying book. Every page contains some happy +phrase or illuminating piece of character drawing." + + +SONGS FROM THE CLAY. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. + +_EVENING STANDARD_.--"They have the sense of elfin mischief and keen +spiritual sympathy with inarticulate nature which is so recognisable a +feature of all Mr. Stephens's writings, prose and verse. Many of the +poems are models of that simplicity which is the supreme art of poesy, +and in all may be found an underlying verity, masked may be with smiles +or tears." + + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Seumas Beg, by James Stephens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** + +***** This file should be named 37214-8.txt or 37214-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37214/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of Seumas Beg + The Rocky Road to Dublin + +Author: James Stephens + +Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37214] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t1"> +THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +JAMES STEPHENS +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +AUTHOR OF +<BR> +'THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER,' 'THE HILL OF VISION,'<BR> +'THE CROCK OF GOLD,' ETC.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED +<BR> +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON +<BR> +1915 +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +COPYRIGHT +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +CONTENTS +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#P3">The Cherry Tree</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P5">Breakfast Time</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P6">In the Orchard</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P8">Day and Night</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P10">The Devil's Bag</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P12">A Visit from Abroad</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P14">The Wood of Flowers</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P15">The White Window</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P16">Midnight</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P18">Behind the Hill</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P20">The Secret</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P21">April Showers</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P22">The Turn of the Road</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P24">The Coral Island</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P26">The Cow</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P27">The Old Man</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P28">What the Snake saw</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P30">The Horse</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P32">The Apple Tree</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P34">The Appointment</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P37">Check</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P38">When I was Young</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#P43">The Patriot's Bed</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P44">Grafton Street</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P45">Portobello Bridge</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P46">York Street</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P47">The Fifteen Acres</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P50">College Green</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P51">Mount Street</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P52">Westland Row</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P54">The College of Science</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P55">The Canal Bank</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P56">By Ana Liffey</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P58">From Hawk and Kite</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P59">The Gombeen-man</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P60">Beresford Place</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P61">At the Fair</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P62">The Fur Coat</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P63">Dublin Men</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P64">O'Connell Bridge</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P65">Charlotte Street</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P66">George's Street</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P68">Holles Street</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P69">Katty Gollagher</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P70">Cork Hill</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P71">The Piper</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P72">The Shadow</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P74">Custom House Quay</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P75">Stephen's Green</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P76">The College of Surgeons</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P78">Merrion Square</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P79">The Bare Trees</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P80">Dunphy's Corner</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P81">The Dodder Bank</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P82">White Fields</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P83">The Paps of Dana</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P84">Donnelly's Orchard</A><BR> +<A HREF="#P85">Donnybrook</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P3"></A> + +<P CLASS="t2"> + THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CHERRY TREE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>Come from your bed my drowsy gentleman!<BR> + And you, fair lady, rise and braid your hair,<BR> +And let the children wash, if wash they can;<BR> + If not, assist you them, and make them fair<BR> +As is the morning and the morning sky,<BR> + And every tree and bush and bird in air.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>The sun climbed on the heights three hours ago,<BR> + He laughed above the hills and they were glad;<BR> +With bubbled pearl he made the rivers flow<BR> + And laced their mists in silver, and he clad<BR> +The meads in fragrant pomp of green and gold,<BR> + And bade the world forget it had been sad.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>So lift yourself, good sir! and you, sweet dame,<BR> + Unlash your evening eyes of pious grey;<BR> +Call on the children by each loved name,<BR> + And set them on the grass and let them play;<BR> +And play with them a while, and sing with them<BR> + Beneath the cherry bush a roundelay.</I><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P5"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BREAKFAST TIME<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The sun is always in the sky<BR> + Whenever I get out of bed,<BR> +And I often wonder why<BR> + It's never late.—My sister said<BR> +She did not know who did the trick,<BR> + And that she did not care a bit,<BR> +And I should eat my porridge quick.<BR> + ... I think it's mother wakens it.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P6"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE ORCHARD<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There was a giant by the Orchard Wall<BR> + Peeping about on this side and on that,<BR> +And feeling in the trees: he was as tall<BR> + As the big apple tree, and twice as fat:<BR> +His beard was long, and bristly-black, and there<BR> +Were leaves and bits of grass stuck in his hair.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He held a great big club in his right hand,<BR> + And with the other felt in every tree<BR> +For something that he wanted. You could stand<BR> + Beside him and not reach up to his knee<BR> +So mighty big he was—I feared he would<BR> +Turn round, and trample down to where I stood.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I tried to get away, but, as I slid<BR> + Under a bush, he saw me, and he bent<BR> +Far down and said, "<I>Where is the Princess hid?</I>"<BR> + I pointed to a place, and off he went—<BR> +But while he searched I turned and simply flew<BR> +Round by the lilac bushes back to you.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P8"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DAY AND NIGHT<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When the bright eyes of the day<BR> + Open on the dusk, to see<BR> +Mist and shadow fade away<BR> + And the sun shine merrily,<BR> +Then I leave my bed and run<BR> +Out to frolic in the sun.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Through the sunny hours I play<BR> + Where the stream is wandering,<BR> +Plucking daisies by the way;<BR> + And I laugh and dance and sing,<BR> +While the birds fly here and there<BR> +Singing on the sunny air.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When the night comes, cold and slow,<BR> + And the sad moon walks the sky,<BR> +When the whispering wind says "<I>Boh,<BR> + Little boy!</I>" and makes me cry,<BR> +By my mother I am led<BR> +Home again and put to bed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DEVIL'S BAG<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I saw the Devil walking down the lane<BR> +Behind our house.—There was a heavy bag<BR> +Strapped tightly on his shoulders, and the rain<BR> +Sizzled when it hit him. He picked a rag<BR> +Up from the ground and put it in his sack,<BR> +And grinned and rubbed his hands.<BR> +There was a thing<BR> +Moving inside the bag upon his back—<BR> +It must have been a soul! I saw it fling<BR> +And twist about inside, and not a hole<BR> +Or cranny for escape! Oh, it was sad!<BR> +I cried, and shouted out, "<I>Let out that soul!</I>"<BR> +But he turned round, and, sure, his face went mad,<BR> +And twisted up and down, and he said "<I>Hell!</I>"<BR> +And ran away.... Oh, mammy! I'm not well.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A VISIT FROM ABROAD<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A speck went blowing up against the sky<BR> + As little as a leaf: then it drew near<BR> +And broadened.—"It's a bird," said I,<BR> + And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer!<BR> +It grew up from a speck into a blot,<BR> +And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down<BR> +All crumply, and waggled such a lot<BR> + I thought the thing would fall.—It was a brown<BR> +Old carpet where a man was sitting snug<BR> + Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew<BR> +A big hole in the middle of the rug,<BR> + And kept on peeping everywhere to know<BR> +Who might be coming—then he gave a twist<BR> + And flew away.... I fired at him but missed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WOOD OF FLOWERS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I went to the Wood of Flowers<BR> + (No one was with me);<BR> +I was there alone for hours.<BR> + I was happy as could be<BR> +In the Wood of Flowers.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +There was grass on the ground,<BR> + There were buds on the tree,<BR> +And the wind had a sound<BR> + Of such gaiety,<BR> +That I was as happy<BR> + As happy could be,<BR> +In the Wood of Flowers.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WHITE WINDOW<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The moon comes every night to peep<BR> + Through the window where I lie,<BR> +And I pretend to be asleep;<BR> + But I watch the moon as it goes by,<BR> +And it never makes a sound.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +It stands and stares, and then it goes<BR> + To the house that's next to me,<BR> +Stealing on its tippy-toes,<BR> + To peep at folk asleep maybe;<BR> +And it never makes a sound.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MIDNIGHT<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And then I wakened up in such a fright;<BR> + I thought I heard a movement in the room<BR> +But did not dare to look; I snuggled right<BR> + Down underneath the bedclothes—then the boom<BR> +Of a tremendous voice said, "<I>Sit up, lad,<BR> + And let me see your face.</I>" So up I sat,<BR> +Although I didn't want to. I was glad<BR> + I did though, for it was an angel that<BR> +Had called me, and he said, he'd come to know<BR> + Was I the boy who wouldn't say his prayers<BR> +Nor do his sums, and that I'd have to go<BR> + Straight down to hell because of such affairs.<BR> +... I said I'd be converted and do good<BR> + If he would let me off—he said he would.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BEHIND THE HILL<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Behind the hill I met a man in green<BR> + Who asked me if my mother had gone out?<BR> +I said she had. He asked me had I seen<BR> + His castle where the people sing and shout<BR> +From dawn to dark, and told me that he had<BR> + A crock of gold inside a hollow tree,<BR> +And I could have it.—I wanted money bad<BR> + To buy a sword with, and I thought that he<BR> +Would keep his solemn word; so, off we went.<BR> + He said he had a pound hid in the crock,<BR> +And owned the castle too, and paid no rent<BR> + To any one, and that you had to knock<BR> +Five hundred times. I asked, "<I>Who reckoned up?</I>"<BR> +And he said, "<I>You insulting little pup!</I>"<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SECRET<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I was frightened, for a wind<BR> + Crept along the grass to say<BR> +Something that was in my mind<BR> + Yesterday—<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Something that I did not know<BR> + Could be found out by the wind,<BR> +I had buried it so low<BR> + In my mind.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +APRIL SHOWERS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The leaves are fresh after the rain,<BR> + The air is cool and clear,<BR> +The sun is shining warm again,<BR> + The sparrows hopping in the lane<BR> +Are brisk and full of cheer.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And that is why we dance and play,<BR> + And that is why we sing,<BR> +Calling out in voices gay,<BR> + We will not go to school to-day<BR> +Or learn anything:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +It is a happy thing, I say,<BR> +To be alive on such a day.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TURN OF THE ROAD<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I was playing with my hoop along the road<BR> + Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly,<BR> +There came a shout.—I ran away and stowed<BR> + Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see<BR> +What made the noise, and then, around the bend,<BR> + I saw a woman running. She was old<BR> +And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.—The end<BR> + Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled<BR> +Right off her, and her hair fell down.—Her face<BR> + Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick,<BR> +And she was talking queer. "<I>O God of Grace!</I>"<BR> + Said she, "<I>where is the child?</I>" and flew back quick<BR> +The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands;<BR> + ... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P24"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CORAL ISLAND<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +His arms were round a chest of oaken wood,<BR> + It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed<BR> +An awful weight. After a while he stood<BR> + And I stole near to him.—His white eyes gleamed<BR> +As he peeped secretly about; he laid<BR> + The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew<BR> +A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade<BR> + Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew<BR> +In all directions underneath a tree,<BR> + And when the hole was deep he put the box<BR> +Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly,<BR> + Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox<BR> +He crept among the trees.... I went next day<BR> +To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P26"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE COW<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Cow, Cow!<BR> + I and thou<BR> +Are looking at each other's eyes<BR> +You are lying on the grass<BR> +Eating every time I pass,<BR> +And you do not seem to be<BR> +Ever in perplexity:<BR> +You are good I'm sure, and not<BR> +Fit for nothing but the pot:<BR> +For your bearing is so kind,<BR> +And your quietness so wise:<BR> + Cow, Cow!<BR> + I and thou<BR> +Are looking at each other's eyes.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P27"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OLD MAN<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +An old man sat beneath a tree<BR> + Alone;<BR> +So still was he<BR> + That, if he had been carved in stone,<BR> +He could not be<BR> + More quiet or more cold:<BR> +He was an ancient man<BR> + More than<BR> +A thousand ages old.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P28"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT THE SNAKE SAW<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A little girl and a big ugly man<BR> + Went down the road. The girl was crying<BR> +And asking to go home, but when she ran<BR> + He hit her on the head and sent her flying,<BR> +And called her a young imp, and said he'd break<BR> + Her neck unless she went with him, and then<BR> +He smacked her on the cheek.—I was a snake<BR> + At that time crawling through a robber's den,<BR> +And diamonds were sticking to my tongue—<BR> + (That's the best dodge), but when I saw the way<BR> +He beat the little girl I up and flung<BR> + A stone at him. My aim was bad that day<BR> +Because I hit the girl ... and she did sing!<BR> +But he jumped round and cursed like anything.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P30"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HORSE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A sparrow hopped about the street,<BR> + And he was not a bit afraid;<BR> +He flew between a horse's feet,<BR> + And ate his supper undismayed:<BR> +I think myself the horse knew well<BR> +The bird came for the grains that fell.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For his eye was looking down,<BR> + And he danced the corn about<BR> +In his nose-bag, till the brown<BR> + Grains of corn were tumbled out;<BR> +And I fancy that he said,<BR> +"Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The driver then came back again,<BR> + He climbed into the heavy dray;<BR> +And he tightened up the rein,<BR> + Cracked his whip and drove away.<BR> +But when the horse's ribs were hit,<BR> +The sparrow did not care a bit.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P32"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE APPLE TREE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I was hiding in the crooked apple tree,<BR> + Scouting for Indians, when a man came;<BR> +I thought it was an Indian, for he<BR> + Was running like the wind.—There was a flame<BR> +Of sunlight on his hand as he drew near,<BR> + And then I saw a knife gripped in his fist.<BR> +He panted like a horse; his eyes were queer,<BR> + Wide-open, staring frightfully, and, hist!<BR> +His mouth stared open like another eye,<BR> + And all his hair was matted down with sweat.<BR> +I crouched among the leaves for fear he'd spy<BR> + Where I was hiding, so he did not get<BR> +His awful eyes on me, but like the wind<BR> +He fled as if he heard something behind.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P34"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE APPOINTMENT<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Tree! you are years standing there,<BR> + Gripping tight to the side of the hill,<BR> +And your branches are spread on the air,<BR> + While you stand so sad and so still,<BR> + And you do not complain<BR> + When you're wet with the rain,<BR> + Though I think you have often been ill.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I would like (but it could not be done,<BR> + So you must not keep me to my word)<BR> +To take you away when the sun<BR> + Goes down, and the breezes are stirred,<BR> + And hug you in bed<BR> + With myself, till you said<BR> +That to sleep on a hill was absurd.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +O beautiful tree! when the night<BR> + Is dark, and the winds come and scold,<BR> +I would love then to cuddle you tight,<BR> + For I fear you will die of the cold;<BR> + But you are so tall,<BR> + And my bed is so small,<BR> +That it could not be done, I am told.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +My mother is calling for me,<BR> + And the baby is wanting to play,<BR> +I shall have to go home now, you see,<BR> + But I'll give you a kiss if I may:<BR> + I would stay if I could,<BR> + But a child must be good,<BR> +So I must, darling tree, go away.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I will leave you my pencil and slate,<BR> + And this little pin from my frock;<BR> +But now I must go, for it's late,<BR> + And my mother is rattling the lock:<BR> + So good-bye, darling dear,<BR> + I'll come back, never fear,<BR> +In the morning at seven o'clock.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P37"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHECK<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The night was creeping on the ground;<BR> +She crept and did not make a sound<BR> +Until she reached the tree, and then<BR> +She covered it, and stole again<BR> +Along the grass beside the wall.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I heard the rustle of her shawl<BR> +As she threw blackness everywhere<BR> +Upon the sky and ground and air,<BR> +And in the room where I was hid:<BR> +But no matter what she did<BR> +To everything that was without,<BR> +She could not put my candle out.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So I stared at the night, and she<BR> +Stared back solemnly at me.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P38"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN I WAS YOUNG<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I will not know when I am dead<BR> +If sun or moon is overhead;<BR> +I'll stretch out flat without a sound<BR> +Inside a box beneath the ground,<BR> +And never rise again to see<BR> +Branches lifting on a tree,<BR> +Nor hear the song the finches sing<BR> +In the spring.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I'll not, while sunny ages go,<BR> +Lift a hand or wag a toe;<BR> +But in a wooden box will be<BR> +Hidden for eternity<BR> +From sea and sun, from sight and sound,<BR> +From touch of people, voice of friend,<BR> +From all that makes my heart to bound,<BR> +Denying such an end:<BR> +It is so strange—I wonder why<BR> +People die!<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P43"></A> + +<P CLASS="t2"> + THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PATRIOT'S BED<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When a son you shall desire,<BR> +Pray to water and to fire;<BR> +But when you would have a daughter,<BR> +Pray to fire and then to water.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P44"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GRAFTON STREET<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +At four o'clock, in dainty talk,<BR> +Lords and lovely ladies walk,<BR> +With a gentle dignity,<BR> +From the Green to Trinity.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And at five o'clock they take,<BR> +In a Café, tea and cake,<BR> +Then they call a carriage, and<BR> +Drive back into fairyland.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P45"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PORTOBELLO BRIDGE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Silver stars shine peacefully,<BR> +The Canal is silver, the<BR> +Poplars bear with modest grace<BR> +Gossamers of silver lace,<BR> +And the turf bank wears with glee<BR> +Black and silver filigree.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P46"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +YORK STREET<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +If in winter you shall drive<BR> +Birds from crumbs, you shall not thrive;<BR> +But if you feed them, they will fly<BR> +To sing it sweetly on the sky.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So throw up the window, and<BR> +Scatter with a lavish hand,<BR> +Taking care you do not spill<BR> +Flower-pots from the window-sill,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Singing, "Ireland shall be free<BR> +From the centre to the sea";<BR> +Singing bravely once again,<BR> +"We are Dan O'Connell's Men."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P47"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIFTEEN ACRES<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + I cling and swing<BR> + On a branch, or sing<BR> +Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O:<BR> + Or fling my wing<BR> + On the air, and bring<BR> +To sleepier birds a warning, O:<BR> + That the night's in flight,<BR> + And the sun's in sight,<BR> +And the dew is the grass adorning, O:<BR> + And the green leaves swing<BR> + As I sing, sing, sing,<BR> + Up by the river,<BR> + Down the dell,<BR> + To the little wee nest,<BR> + Where the big tree fell,<BR> + So early in the morning, O.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + I flit and twit<BR> + In the sun for a bit<BR> +When his light so bright is shining, O:<BR> + Or sit and fit<BR> + My plumes, or knit<BR> +Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O:<BR> + And she with glee<BR> + Shows unto me<BR> +Underneath her wings reclining, O:<BR> + And I sing that Peg<BR> + Has an egg, egg, egg,<BR> + Up by the oat-field,<BR> + Round the mill,<BR> + Past the meadow,<BR> + Down the hill,<BR> + So early in the morning, O.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + I stoop and swoop<BR> + On the air, or loop<BR> +Through the trees, and then go soaring, O<BR> + To group with a troop<BR> + On the gusty poop<BR> +While the wind behind is roaring, O:<BR> + I skim and swim<BR> + By a cloud's red rim<BR> +And up to the azure flooring, O:<BR> + And my wide wings drip<BR> + As I slip, slip, slip<BR> + Down through the rain-drops,<BR> + Back where Peg<BR> + Broods in the nest<BR> + On the little white egg,<BR> + So early in the morning, O.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P50"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +COLLEGE GREEN<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When you meet an ancient man,<BR> +Be as silent as you can;<BR> +So when old age comes to you,<BR> +Courtesies shall gather too.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And King Billy's horse will start<BR> +From our street and from our heart,<BR> +When each Irishman shall be<BR> +Perfected in courtesy.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P51"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MOUNT STREET<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Here and there on the wings of night<BR> +A fleck of blue and purple light,<BR> +A scrap of cloud, a bird, a star,<BR> +A comet hurrying afar<BR> +On the abyss, and the moon<BR> +Standing in her silver shoon.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +On the summit of the sky,<BR> +Delicate and proud and high,<BR> +The silver moon on a silver sea<BR> +Spins her silver broidery<BR> +While the stars send down a light<BR> +Here and there on the wings of night.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P52"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WESTLAND ROW<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Every Sunday there's a throng<BR> +Of pretty girls, who trot along<BR> +In a pious, breathless state<BR> +(They are nearly always late)<BR> +To the Chapel, where they pray<BR> +For the sins of Saturday.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +They have frocks of white and blue,<BR> +Yellow sashes they have too,<BR> +And red ribbons show each head<BR> +Tenderly is ringleted;<BR> +And the bell rings loud, and the<BR> +Railway whistles urgently.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +After Chapel they will go,<BR> +Walking delicately slow,<BR> +Telling still how Father John<BR> +Is so good to look upon,<BR> +And such other grave affairs<BR> +As they thought of during prayers.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P54"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE COLLEGE OF SCIENCE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Who knows a thing and will not tell<BR> +Shall spend eternity in hell;<BR> +But he who learns and teaches free<BR> +In heaven spends eternity.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Around the Leinster Lawn we go<BR> +Into Molesworth Street, and so<BR> +To Saint Stephen's Green, where we<BR> +Hang a banner on a tree.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P55"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CANAL BANK<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I know a girl,<BR> + And a girl knows me,<BR> + And the owl says, what?<BR> + And the owl says, who?<BR> +But what we know<BR> + We both agree<BR> +That nobody else<BR> + Shall hear or see,<BR> +It's all between<BR> + Herself and me:<BR> + To wit? said the owl,<BR> + To woo, said I,<BR> + To-what, to-wit, to-woo!<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P56"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY ANA LIFFEY<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +If you come to live with me,<BR> +I will sing so heartily<BR> +In your honour that you will<BR> +Stay to wonder at my skill.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In your honour I will fill<BR> +The world with songs of triumph, till<BR> +You and I and Time are old<BR> +Pipers of the Age of Gold.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Time and you and I will hold,<BR> +Everywhere by field and fold,<BR> +Concerts of content, and be<BR> +Known afar for jollity.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Everywhere by fold and field<BR> +We will wander well-agreed;<BR> +So I sing right heartily,<BR> +Come along and live with me.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P58"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FROM HAWK AND KITE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Poor, frightened, fluttered, silent one!<BR> + If we had seen your nest of clay<BR> +We would have passed it by, and gone,<BR> + Nor frightened you away.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For there are others guard a nest<BR> + From hawk and kite and lurking foe,<BR> +And more despair is in their breast<BR> + Than you can ever know.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Shield the nests where'er they be,<BR> +On the ground or on the tree;<BR> +Guard the poor from treachery.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P59"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GOMBEEN-MAN<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I put the sky into my pocket,<BR> +And the sea into my locket,<BR> +And into my breeches-band<BR> +I put the land.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So I was trotting off to share,<BR> +Among my comrades in the lair,<BR> +Our profits, when a peeler came<BR> +And took my name.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And now I'm in the County Gaol!<BR> +Will anybody be my bail?<BR> +Will anybody be my bail<BR> +And take me from the County Gaol?<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P60"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BERESFORD PLACE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The man who has and does not give<BR> +Shall break his neck, and cease to live;<BR> +But he who gives without a care<BR> +Shall gather rubies from the air.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P61"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE FAIR<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The lark shall never come to say<BR> +To a gombeen-man, "Good day,"<BR> +And the lark shall never cry<BR> +To a kindly man, "Good-bye."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +See the greedy gombeen-man<BR> +Taking everything he can<BR> +From man and woman, dog and cat—<BR> +And the lark does not like that.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P62"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FUR COAT<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I walked out in my Coat of Pride,<BR> +I looked about on every side,<BR> +And said the mountains should not be<BR> +Just where they were, and that the sea<BR> +Was badly placed, and that the beech<BR> +Should be an oak—and then from each<BR> +I turned in dignity as if<BR> +They were not there: I sniffed a sniff,<BR> +And climbed upon my sunny shelf,<BR> +And sneezed a while, and scratched myself.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P63"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DUBLIN MEN<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A Dublin man will frown when he<BR> +Hears a tale of villainy;<BR> +But when a kindness you relate,<BR> +He swings and whistles on the gate.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P64"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +O'CONNELL BRIDGE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In Dublin town the people see<BR> +Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously,<BR> +They are finer, I declare,<BR> +Than the clouds of anywhere.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A swirl of blue and red and green,<BR> +A stream of blinding gold, a sheen<BR> +From silver hill and pearly ridge<BR> +Comes each evening on the bridge.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +So when you walk in a field, look down,<BR> +Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown,<BR> +But in a city look always high<BR> +And watch the beautiful clouds go by.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P65"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHARLOTTE STREET<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Inside a soap shop, down a lane,<BR> +A big bee buzzed on a window-pane,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Climbing the cold glass up and down;<BR> +Bee, what brought you into town?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +You are tired and hungry and scarce alive,<BR> +Poor old Shaggy-Tail! where's your hive?<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P66"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GEORGE'S STREET<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Listen! if but women were<BR> +Half as kind as they are fair,<BR> +There would be an end to all<BR> +Miseries that do befall.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Cloud and wind would run together<BR> +In a dance of sunny weather,<BR> +And the happy trees would throw<BR> +Gifts to travellers below.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then the lion, meek and mild,<BR> +With the lamb would, side by side,<BR> +Couch him friendly, and would be<BR> +Innocent of enmity.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then the Frozen Pole would go,<BR> +Tossing off his fields of snow,<BR> +And would shake delighted feet<BR> +With the girls of George's Street.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +These, if women only were<BR> +Half as kind as they are fair.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P68"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOLLES STREET<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Through the air,<BR> +Everywhere, the rain is falling;<BR> +Brawling on house and tree:<BR> +On every place that you can see<BR> +The rain drops go;<BR> +The roofs are wet, the walls, the ground below.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Midnight has come;<BR> +Now all the people stretch them blind and dumb<BR> +Each in a bed<BR> +Save I, who sit and listen overhead<BR> +Unto the rain<BR> +Splashing upon the roof and window-pane.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Midnight! and I<BR> +Can get no sleep, nor can the sky.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P69"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +KATTY GOLLAGHER<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The hill is bare: I only find<BR> + The grass, the sky, and one small tree<BR> +Tossing wildly on the wind;<BR> + And that is all there is to see:<BR> +A tree, a hill, a wind, a sky<BR> +Where nothing ever passes by.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P70"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CORK HILL<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Come all ye happy children, and<BR> +Gather round me hand in hand,<BR> +Dancing to the merry cry,<BR> +"See the Robbers Passing By."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Past the Castle we will dance<BR> +To the Mansion House, and prance<BR> +Back by George's Street and cry,<BR> +"See the Robbers Passing By."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Gather then ye children all<BR> +Into ranks processional,<BR> +Marching to the merry cry,<BR> +"See the Robbers Passing By."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P71"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PIPER<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Shepherd! while the lambs do feed,<BR> + And you rest beneath a tree,<BR> +Pipe upon an oaten reed<BR> + Merrily and merrily.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Should it rain do not forbear—<BR> + Rain comes from the happy sky—<BR> +Tune us now a quiet air<BR> + Till the shower passes by.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Back the sun will come in gold!<BR> + Pipe away, my dear, until<BR> +Evening brings the lambs to fold—<BR> + You may weep then if you will.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P72"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE SHADOW<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Silence comes upon the night,<BR> + Gone is all the cheerful day,<BR> +The moon has disappeared from sight,<BR> + Every star has gone away.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Sinking through the void, and thence<BR> + Disappearing, star and sky,<BR> +In the stern and black immense<BR> + That has blinded every eye.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Silence crouches on the land,<BR> + In the street a shadow lies<BR> +Cloaked in velvet wrappings, and<BR> + With a mask upon her eyes.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Anonymous and terrible<BR> + Mother of the primal ray,<BR> +Only night because thou art<BR> + In thyself excess of day.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P74"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CUSTOM HOUSE QUAY<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When a Dublin man shall say,<BR> +"Give me a little bread, I pray,"<BR> +If you do not give him bread<BR> +You will be hungry when he is fed.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And let no priest or magistrate<BR> +Scowl upon the poor man's plate,<BR> +Asking him the question sly<BR> +To which no one can reply.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P75"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STEPHEN'S GREEN<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The wind stood up and gave a shout;<BR> + He whistled on his fingers, and<BR> +Kicked the withered leaves about<BR> + And thumped the branches with his hand,<BR> +And said he'd kill, and kill, and kill,<BR> +And so he will, and so he will.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P76"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As I stood at the door<BR> + Sheltered out of the wind,<BR> +Something flew in<BR> + Which I hardly could find.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In the dim, gloomy doorway<BR> + I searched till I found<BR> +A dry withered leaf<BR> + Lying down on the ground.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +With thin, pointed claws<BR> + And a dry dusty skin,—<BR> +Sure a hall is no place<BR> + For a leaf to be in!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Oh where is your tree,<BR> + And your summer and all,<BR> +Poor dusty leaf<BR> + Whistled into a hall?<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P78"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MERRION SQUARE<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Grey clouds on the tinted sky,<BR> +A drifting moon, a quiet breeze<BR> +Drooping mournfully to cry<BR> +In the branches of the trees.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The crying wind, the sighing trees,<BR> +The ruffled stars, the darkness falling<BR> +Down the sky, and on the breeze<BR> +A belated linnet calling.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P79"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BARE TREES<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Unfortunates, on the bare tree!<BR> +I mourn for ye<BR> +That have no place to house,<BR> +But on those winter-white cold boughs<BR> + To sit,<BR> + (How far apart ye sit)<BR> +And brood<BR> +In this wide, wintry solitude<BR> + That has no song at all to hearten it.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Fly away, little birds!<BR> + Fly away to Spain,<BR> +Stay there all the winter<BR> + Then come back again;<BR> +Come back in the summer<BR> + When the leaves are thick;<BR> +Little weeny cold birds<BR> + Fly away quick.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P80"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DUNPHY'S CORNER<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Pacing slowly down the road<BR> +Black horses go, with load on load<BR> +Of Dublin people dead, and they<BR> +Will be covered up in clay.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Ere their friends go home, each man<BR> +Will shake his head, and drain a can<BR> +To Dublin people we will meet<BR> +Not again in Grafton Street.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P81"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DODDER BANK<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +When no flower is nigh, you might<BR> +Spy a weed with deep delight;<BR> +So, when far from saints and bliss,<BR> +God might give a sin a kiss.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P82"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHITE FIELDS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +In the winter children go<BR> +Walking in the fields of snow<BR> +Where there is no grass at all,<BR> +And the top of every wall,<BR> +Every fence, and every tree<BR> +Is as white as white can be.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Pointing out the way they came,<BR> +(Every one of them the same)<BR> +All across the fields there be<BR> +Prints in silver filigree;<BR> +And their mothers find them so<BR> +By the footprints in the snow.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P83"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PAPS OF DANA<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The mountains stand and stare around,<BR> + They are far too proud to speak;<BR> +Altho' they're rooted in the ground,<BR> + Up they go, peak after peak,<BR> +Beyond the tallest tree, and still<BR> + Soaring over house and hill<BR> +Until you'd think they'd never stop<BR> + Going up, top over top,<BR> +Into the clouds—<BR> + Still I mark<BR> + That a sparrow or a lark<BR> +Flying just as high, can sing<BR> + As if he'd not done anything.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I think the mountains ought to be<BR> +Taught a little modesty.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P84"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DONNELLY'S ORCHARD<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +He who locks a gate doth close<BR> +Pity's heart against his woes;<BR> +But who opens one shall find<BR> +God is standing just behind.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="P85"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DONNYBROOK<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I saw the moon so broad and bright<BR> +Sailing high on a frosty night:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And the air swung far and far between<BR> +The silver disc and the orb of green:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While here and there a wisp of white<BR> +Cloud-film swam on the misty light:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And crusted thickly on the sky,<BR> +High and higher and yet more high,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Were golden star-points dusted through<BR> +The great, wide, silent vault of blue:<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then I said to me—God is good<BR> +And the world is fair—and where I stood<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +I knelt me down and bent my head,<BR> +And said my prayers, and went to bed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +<I>Printed by</I> R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, <I>Edinburgh.</I><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap088"></A> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +<I>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</I> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE CROCK OF GOLD. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. +</P> + +<P> +<I>THE PALL MALL GAZETTE</I>.—"A wise, beautiful, and humorous book.... If +you could have given Sterne a soul and made him a poet he might have +produced <I>The Crock of Gold</I>." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE DEMI-GODS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. +</P> + +<P> +<I>STANDARD</I>.—"The book is full of fine knowledge and fantasies in every +shade of gaiety and gravity, and we would call its author a magician +did we not feel that everything he writes is perfectly natural to +him.... This book would prove, if proof were needed, that Mr. +Stephens's <I>Crock of Gold</I> was not a mere <I>tour de force</I>, but a real +ebullition of genius and a token of all the good work that was to come." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +HERE ARE LADIES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. +</P> + +<P> +<I>THE TIMES</I>.—"A story may have many and diverse effects upon its +reader. It may leave him smiling, laughing, frowning (perhaps +weeping), angry, perplexed, exalted, afraid. The bits of stories in +<I>Here are Ladies</I>, the sketches, essays, snapshots, call them what you +will, will leave him for the most part happy and hungry—for more." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. +</P> + +<P> +<I>PUNCH</I>.—"A little gem.... It is a very long time indeed since we +read such a human, satisfying book. Every page contains some happy +phrase or illuminating piece of character drawing." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SONGS FROM THE CLAY. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. +</P> + +<P> +<I>EVENING STANDARD</I>.—"They have the sense of elfin mischief and keen +spiritual sympathy with inarticulate nature which is so recognisable a +feature of all Mr. Stephens's writings, prose and verse. Many of the +poems are models of that simplicity which is the supreme art of poesy, +and in all may be found an underlying verity, masked may be with smiles +or tears." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Seumas Beg, by James Stephens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** + +***** This file should be named 37214-h.htm or 37214-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37214/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of Seumas Beg + The Rocky Road to Dublin + +Author: James Stephens + +Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37214] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG + + +THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN + + +BY + +JAMES STEPHENS + + + +AUTHOR OF + +'THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER,' 'THE HILL OF VISION,' + 'THE CROCK OF GOLD,' ETC. + + + + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED + +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON + +1915 + + + + +COPYRIGHT + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG + + The Cherry Tree + Breakfast Time + In the Orchard + Day and Night + The Devil's Bag + A Visit from Abroad + The Wood of Flowers + The White Window + Midnight + Behind the Hill + The Secret + April Showers + The Turn of the Road + The Coral Island + The Cow + The Old Man + What the Snake saw + The Horse + The Apple Tree + The Appointment + Check + When I was Young + + +THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN + + The Patriot's Bed + Grafton Street + Portobello Bridge + York Street + The Fifteen Acres + College Green + Mount Street + Westland Row + The College of Science + The Canal Bank + By Ana Liffey + From Hawk and Kite + The Gombeen-man + Beresford Place + At the Fair + The Fur Coat + Dublin Men + O'Connell Bridge + Charlotte Street + George's Street + Holles Street + Katty Gollagher + Cork Hill + The Piper + The Shadow + Custom House Quay + Stephen's Green + The College of Surgeons + Merrion Square + The Bare Trees + Dunphy's Corner + The Dodder Bank + White Fields + The Paps of Dana + Donnelly's Orchard + Donnybrook + + + + + THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG + + + + THE CHERRY TREE + + _Come from your bed my drowsy gentleman! + And you, fair lady, rise and braid your hair, + And let the children wash, if wash they can; + If not, assist you them, and make them fair + As is the morning and the morning sky, + And every tree and bush and bird in air._ + + _The sun climbed on the heights three hours ago, + He laughed above the hills and they were glad; + With bubbled pearl he made the rivers flow + And laced their mists in silver, and he clad + The meads in fragrant pomp of green and gold, + And bade the world forget it had been sad._ + + _So lift yourself, good sir! and you, sweet dame, + Unlash your evening eyes of pious grey; + Call on the children by each loved name, + And set them on the grass and let them play; + And play with them a while, and sing with them + Beneath the cherry bush a roundelay._ + + + + + BREAKFAST TIME + + The sun is always in the sky + Whenever I get out of bed, + And I often wonder why + It's never late.--My sister said + She did not know who did the trick, + And that she did not care a bit, + And I should eat my porridge quick. + ... I think it's mother wakens it. + + + + + IN THE ORCHARD + + There was a giant by the Orchard Wall + Peeping about on this side and on that, + And feeling in the trees: he was as tall + As the big apple tree, and twice as fat: + His beard was long, and bristly-black, and there + Were leaves and bits of grass stuck in his hair. + + He held a great big club in his right hand, + And with the other felt in every tree + For something that he wanted. You could stand + Beside him and not reach up to his knee + So mighty big he was--I feared he would + Turn round, and trample down to where I stood. + + I tried to get away, but, as I slid + Under a bush, he saw me, and he bent + Far down and said, "_Where is the Princess hid?_" + I pointed to a place, and off he went-- + But while he searched I turned and simply flew + Round by the lilac bushes back to you. + + + + + DAY AND NIGHT + + When the bright eyes of the day + Open on the dusk, to see + Mist and shadow fade away + And the sun shine merrily, + Then I leave my bed and run + Out to frolic in the sun. + + Through the sunny hours I play + Where the stream is wandering, + Plucking daisies by the way; + And I laugh and dance and sing, + While the birds fly here and there + Singing on the sunny air. + + When the night comes, cold and slow, + And the sad moon walks the sky, + When the whispering wind says "_Boh, + Little boy!_" and makes me cry, + By my mother I am led + Home again and put to bed. + + + + + THE DEVIL'S BAG + + I saw the Devil walking down the lane + Behind our house.--There was a heavy bag + Strapped tightly on his shoulders, and the rain + Sizzled when it hit him. He picked a rag + Up from the ground and put it in his sack, + And grinned and rubbed his hands. + There was a thing + Moving inside the bag upon his back-- + It must have been a soul! I saw it fling + And twist about inside, and not a hole + Or cranny for escape! Oh, it was sad! + I cried, and shouted out, "_Let out that soul!_" + But he turned round, and, sure, his face went mad, + And twisted up and down, and he said "_Hell!_" + And ran away.... Oh, mammy! I'm not well. + + + + + A VISIT FROM ABROAD + + A speck went blowing up against the sky + As little as a leaf: then it drew near + And broadened.--"It's a bird," said I, + And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer! + It grew up from a speck into a blot, + And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down + All crumply, and waggled such a lot + I thought the thing would fall.--It was a brown + Old carpet where a man was sitting snug + Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew + A big hole in the middle of the rug, + And kept on peeping everywhere to know + Who might be coming--then he gave a twist + And flew away.... I fired at him but missed. + + + + + THE WOOD OF FLOWERS + + I went to the Wood of Flowers + (No one was with me); + I was there alone for hours. + I was happy as could be + In the Wood of Flowers. + + There was grass on the ground, + There were buds on the tree, + And the wind had a sound + Of such gaiety, + That I was as happy + As happy could be, + In the Wood of Flowers. + + + + + THE WHITE WINDOW + + The moon comes every night to peep + Through the window where I lie, + And I pretend to be asleep; + But I watch the moon as it goes by, + And it never makes a sound. + + It stands and stares, and then it goes + To the house that's next to me, + Stealing on its tippy-toes, + To peep at folk asleep maybe; + And it never makes a sound. + + + + + MIDNIGHT + + And then I wakened up in such a fright; + I thought I heard a movement in the room + But did not dare to look; I snuggled right + Down underneath the bedclothes--then the boom + Of a tremendous voice said, "_Sit up, lad, + And let me see your face._" So up I sat, + Although I didn't want to. I was glad + I did though, for it was an angel that + Had called me, and he said, he'd come to know + Was I the boy who wouldn't say his prayers + Nor do his sums, and that I'd have to go + Straight down to hell because of such affairs. + ... I said I'd be converted and do good + If he would let me off--he said he would. + + + + + BEHIND THE HILL + + Behind the hill I met a man in green + Who asked me if my mother had gone out? + I said she had. He asked me had I seen + His castle where the people sing and shout + From dawn to dark, and told me that he had + A crock of gold inside a hollow tree, + And I could have it.--I wanted money bad + To buy a sword with, and I thought that he + Would keep his solemn word; so, off we went. + He said he had a pound hid in the crock, + And owned the castle too, and paid no rent + To any one, and that you had to knock + Five hundred times. I asked, "_Who reckoned up?_" + And he said, "_You insulting little pup!_" + + + + + THE SECRET + + I was frightened, for a wind + Crept along the grass to say + Something that was in my mind + Yesterday-- + + Something that I did not know + Could be found out by the wind, + I had buried it so low + In my mind. + + + + + APRIL SHOWERS + + The leaves are fresh after the rain, + The air is cool and clear, + The sun is shining warm again, + The sparrows hopping in the lane + Are brisk and full of cheer. + + And that is why we dance and play, + And that is why we sing, + Calling out in voices gay, + We will not go to school to-day + Or learn anything: + + It is a happy thing, I say, + To be alive on such a day. + + + + + THE TURN OF THE ROAD + + I was playing with my hoop along the road + Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly, + There came a shout.--I ran away and stowed + Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see + What made the noise, and then, around the bend, + I saw a woman running. She was old + And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.--The end + Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled + Right off her, and her hair fell down.--Her face + Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick, + And she was talking queer. "_O God of Grace!_" + Said she, "_where is the child?_" and flew back quick + The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands; + ... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands. + + + + + THE CORAL ISLAND + + His arms were round a chest of oaken wood, + It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed + An awful weight. After a while he stood + And I stole near to him.--His white eyes gleamed + As he peeped secretly about; he laid + The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew + A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade + Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew + In all directions underneath a tree, + And when the hole was deep he put the box + Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly, + Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox + He crept among the trees.... I went next day + To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way. + + + + + THE COW + + Cow, Cow! + I and thou + Are looking at each other's eyes + You are lying on the grass + Eating every time I pass, + And you do not seem to be + Ever in perplexity: + You are good I'm sure, and not + Fit for nothing but the pot: + For your bearing is so kind, + And your quietness so wise: + Cow, Cow! + I and thou + Are looking at each other's eyes. + + + + + THE OLD MAN + + An old man sat beneath a tree + Alone; + So still was he + That, if he had been carved in stone, + He could not be + More quiet or more cold: + He was an ancient man + More than + A thousand ages old. + + + + + WHAT THE SNAKE SAW + + A little girl and a big ugly man + Went down the road. The girl was crying + And asking to go home, but when she ran + He hit her on the head and sent her flying, + And called her a young imp, and said he'd break + Her neck unless she went with him, and then + He smacked her on the cheek.--I was a snake + At that time crawling through a robber's den, + And diamonds were sticking to my tongue-- + (That's the best dodge), but when I saw the way + He beat the little girl I up and flung + A stone at him. My aim was bad that day + Because I hit the girl ... and she did sing! + But he jumped round and cursed like anything. + + + + + THE HORSE + + A sparrow hopped about the street, + And he was not a bit afraid; + He flew between a horse's feet, + And ate his supper undismayed: + I think myself the horse knew well + The bird came for the grains that fell. + + For his eye was looking down, + And he danced the corn about + In his nose-bag, till the brown + Grains of corn were tumbled out; + And I fancy that he said, + "Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!" + + The driver then came back again, + He climbed into the heavy dray; + And he tightened up the rein, + Cracked his whip and drove away. + But when the horse's ribs were hit, + The sparrow did not care a bit. + + + + + THE APPLE TREE + + I was hiding in the crooked apple tree, + Scouting for Indians, when a man came; + I thought it was an Indian, for he + Was running like the wind.--There was a flame + Of sunlight on his hand as he drew near, + And then I saw a knife gripped in his fist. + He panted like a horse; his eyes were queer, + Wide-open, staring frightfully, and, hist! + His mouth stared open like another eye, + And all his hair was matted down with sweat. + I crouched among the leaves for fear he'd spy + Where I was hiding, so he did not get + His awful eyes on me, but like the wind + He fled as if he heard something behind. + + + + + THE APPOINTMENT + + Tree! you are years standing there, + Gripping tight to the side of the hill, + And your branches are spread on the air, + While you stand so sad and so still, + And you do not complain + When you're wet with the rain, + Though I think you have often been ill. + + I would like (but it could not be done, + So you must not keep me to my word) + To take you away when the sun + Goes down, and the breezes are stirred, + And hug you in bed + With myself, till you said + That to sleep on a hill was absurd. + + O beautiful tree! when the night + Is dark, and the winds come and scold, + I would love then to cuddle you tight, + For I fear you will die of the cold; + But you are so tall, + And my bed is so small, + That it could not be done, I am told. + + My mother is calling for me, + And the baby is wanting to play, + I shall have to go home now, you see, + But I'll give you a kiss if I may: + I would stay if I could, + But a child must be good, + So I must, darling tree, go away. + + I will leave you my pencil and slate, + And this little pin from my frock; + But now I must go, for it's late, + And my mother is rattling the lock: + So good-bye, darling dear, + I'll come back, never fear, + In the morning at seven o'clock. + + + + + CHECK + + The night was creeping on the ground; + She crept and did not make a sound + Until she reached the tree, and then + She covered it, and stole again + Along the grass beside the wall. + + I heard the rustle of her shawl + As she threw blackness everywhere + Upon the sky and ground and air, + And in the room where I was hid: + But no matter what she did + To everything that was without, + She could not put my candle out. + + So I stared at the night, and she + Stared back solemnly at me. + + + + + WHEN I WAS YOUNG + + I will not know when I am dead + If sun or moon is overhead; + I'll stretch out flat without a sound + Inside a box beneath the ground, + And never rise again to see + Branches lifting on a tree, + Nor hear the song the finches sing + In the spring. + + I'll not, while sunny ages go, + Lift a hand or wag a toe; + But in a wooden box will be + Hidden for eternity + From sea and sun, from sight and sound, + From touch of people, voice of friend, + From all that makes my heart to bound, + Denying such an end: + It is so strange--I wonder why + People die! + + + + + THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN + + + + THE PATRIOT'S BED + + When a son you shall desire, + Pray to water and to fire; + But when you would have a daughter, + Pray to fire and then to water. + + + + + GRAFTON STREET + + At four o'clock, in dainty talk, + Lords and lovely ladies walk, + With a gentle dignity, + From the Green to Trinity. + + And at five o'clock they take, + In a Cafe, tea and cake, + Then they call a carriage, and + Drive back into fairyland. + + + + + PORTOBELLO BRIDGE + + Silver stars shine peacefully, + The Canal is silver, the + Poplars bear with modest grace + Gossamers of silver lace, + And the turf bank wears with glee + Black and silver filigree. + + + + + YORK STREET + + If in winter you shall drive + Birds from crumbs, you shall not thrive; + But if you feed them, they will fly + To sing it sweetly on the sky. + + So throw up the window, and + Scatter with a lavish hand, + Taking care you do not spill + Flower-pots from the window-sill, + + Singing, "Ireland shall be free + From the centre to the sea"; + Singing bravely once again, + "We are Dan O'Connell's Men." + + + + + THE FIFTEEN ACRES + + I cling and swing + On a branch, or sing + Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O: + Or fling my wing + On the air, and bring + To sleepier birds a warning, O: + That the night's in flight, + And the sun's in sight, + And the dew is the grass adorning, O: + And the green leaves swing + As I sing, sing, sing, + Up by the river, + Down the dell, + To the little wee nest, + Where the big tree fell, + So early in the morning, O. + + I flit and twit + In the sun for a bit + When his light so bright is shining, O: + Or sit and fit + My plumes, or knit + Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O: + And she with glee + Shows unto me + Underneath her wings reclining, O: + And I sing that Peg + Has an egg, egg, egg, + Up by the oat-field, + Round the mill, + Past the meadow, + Down the hill, + So early in the morning, O. + + I stoop and swoop + On the air, or loop + Through the trees, and then go soaring, O + To group with a troop + On the gusty poop + While the wind behind is roaring, O: + I skim and swim + By a cloud's red rim + And up to the azure flooring, O: + And my wide wings drip + As I slip, slip, slip + Down through the rain-drops, + Back where Peg + Broods in the nest + On the little white egg, + So early in the morning, O. + + + + + COLLEGE GREEN + + When you meet an ancient man, + Be as silent as you can; + So when old age comes to you, + Courtesies shall gather too. + + And King Billy's horse will start + From our street and from our heart, + When each Irishman shall be + Perfected in courtesy. + + + + + MOUNT STREET + + Here and there on the wings of night + A fleck of blue and purple light, + A scrap of cloud, a bird, a star, + A comet hurrying afar + On the abyss, and the moon + Standing in her silver shoon. + + On the summit of the sky, + Delicate and proud and high, + The silver moon on a silver sea + Spins her silver broidery + While the stars send down a light + Here and there on the wings of night. + + + + + WESTLAND ROW + + Every Sunday there's a throng + Of pretty girls, who trot along + In a pious, breathless state + (They are nearly always late) + To the Chapel, where they pray + For the sins of Saturday. + + They have frocks of white and blue, + Yellow sashes they have too, + And red ribbons show each head + Tenderly is ringleted; + And the bell rings loud, and the + Railway whistles urgently. + + After Chapel they will go, + Walking delicately slow, + Telling still how Father John + Is so good to look upon, + And such other grave affairs + As they thought of during prayers. + + + + + THE COLLEGE OF SCIENCE + + Who knows a thing and will not tell + Shall spend eternity in hell; + But he who learns and teaches free + In heaven spends eternity. + + Around the Leinster Lawn we go + Into Molesworth Street, and so + To Saint Stephen's Green, where we + Hang a banner on a tree. + + + + + THE CANAL BANK + + I know a girl, + And a girl knows me, + And the owl says, what? + And the owl says, who? + But what we know + We both agree + That nobody else + Shall hear or see, + It's all between + Herself and me: + To wit? said the owl, + To woo, said I, + To-what, to-wit, to-woo! + + + + + BY ANA LIFFEY + + If you come to live with me, + I will sing so heartily + In your honour that you will + Stay to wonder at my skill. + + In your honour I will fill + The world with songs of triumph, till + You and I and Time are old + Pipers of the Age of Gold. + + Time and you and I will hold, + Everywhere by field and fold, + Concerts of content, and be + Known afar for jollity. + + Everywhere by fold and field + We will wander well-agreed; + So I sing right heartily, + Come along and live with me. + + + + + FROM HAWK AND KITE + + Poor, frightened, fluttered, silent one! + If we had seen your nest of clay + We would have passed it by, and gone, + Nor frightened you away. + + For there are others guard a nest + From hawk and kite and lurking foe, + And more despair is in their breast + Than you can ever know. + + Shield the nests where'er they be, + On the ground or on the tree; + Guard the poor from treachery. + + + + + THE GOMBEEN-MAN + + I put the sky into my pocket, + And the sea into my locket, + And into my breeches-band + I put the land. + + So I was trotting off to share, + Among my comrades in the lair, + Our profits, when a peeler came + And took my name. + + And now I'm in the County Gaol! + Will anybody be my bail? + Will anybody be my bail + And take me from the County Gaol? + + + + + BERESFORD PLACE + + The man who has and does not give + Shall break his neck, and cease to live; + But he who gives without a care + Shall gather rubies from the air. + + + + + AT THE FAIR + + The lark shall never come to say + To a gombeen-man, "Good day," + And the lark shall never cry + To a kindly man, "Good-bye." + + See the greedy gombeen-man + Taking everything he can + From man and woman, dog and cat-- + And the lark does not like that. + + + + + THE FUR COAT + + I walked out in my Coat of Pride, + I looked about on every side, + And said the mountains should not be + Just where they were, and that the sea + Was badly placed, and that the beech + Should be an oak--and then from each + I turned in dignity as if + They were not there: I sniffed a sniff, + And climbed upon my sunny shelf, + And sneezed a while, and scratched myself. + + + + + DUBLIN MEN + + A Dublin man will frown when he + Hears a tale of villainy; + But when a kindness you relate, + He swings and whistles on the gate. + + + + + O'CONNELL BRIDGE + + In Dublin town the people see + Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously, + They are finer, I declare, + Than the clouds of anywhere. + + A swirl of blue and red and green, + A stream of blinding gold, a sheen + From silver hill and pearly ridge + Comes each evening on the bridge. + + So when you walk in a field, look down, + Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown, + But in a city look always high + And watch the beautiful clouds go by. + + + + + CHARLOTTE STREET + + Inside a soap shop, down a lane, + A big bee buzzed on a window-pane, + + Climbing the cold glass up and down; + Bee, what brought you into town? + + You are tired and hungry and scarce alive, + Poor old Shaggy-Tail! where's your hive? + + + + + GEORGE'S STREET + + Listen! if but women were + Half as kind as they are fair, + There would be an end to all + Miseries that do befall. + + Cloud and wind would run together + In a dance of sunny weather, + And the happy trees would throw + Gifts to travellers below. + + Then the lion, meek and mild, + With the lamb would, side by side, + Couch him friendly, and would be + Innocent of enmity. + + Then the Frozen Pole would go, + Tossing off his fields of snow, + And would shake delighted feet + With the girls of George's Street. + + These, if women only were + Half as kind as they are fair. + + + + + HOLLES STREET + + Through the air, + Everywhere, the rain is falling; + Brawling on house and tree: + On every place that you can see + The rain drops go; + The roofs are wet, the walls, the ground below. + + Midnight has come; + Now all the people stretch them blind and dumb + Each in a bed + Save I, who sit and listen overhead + Unto the rain + Splashing upon the roof and window-pane. + + Midnight! and I + Can get no sleep, nor can the sky. + + + + + KATTY GOLLAGHER + + The hill is bare: I only find + The grass, the sky, and one small tree + Tossing wildly on the wind; + And that is all there is to see: + A tree, a hill, a wind, a sky + Where nothing ever passes by. + + + + + CORK HILL + + Come all ye happy children, and + Gather round me hand in hand, + Dancing to the merry cry, + "See the Robbers Passing By." + + Past the Castle we will dance + To the Mansion House, and prance + Back by George's Street and cry, + "See the Robbers Passing By." + + Gather then ye children all + Into ranks processional, + Marching to the merry cry, + "See the Robbers Passing By." + + + + + THE PIPER + + Shepherd! while the lambs do feed, + And you rest beneath a tree, + Pipe upon an oaten reed + Merrily and merrily. + + Should it rain do not forbear-- + Rain comes from the happy sky-- + Tune us now a quiet air + Till the shower passes by. + + Back the sun will come in gold! + Pipe away, my dear, until + Evening brings the lambs to fold-- + You may weep then if you will. + + + + + THE SHADOW + + Silence comes upon the night, + Gone is all the cheerful day, + The moon has disappeared from sight, + Every star has gone away. + + Sinking through the void, and thence + Disappearing, star and sky, + In the stern and black immense + That has blinded every eye. + + Silence crouches on the land, + In the street a shadow lies + Cloaked in velvet wrappings, and + With a mask upon her eyes. + + Anonymous and terrible + Mother of the primal ray, + Only night because thou art + In thyself excess of day. + + + + + CUSTOM HOUSE QUAY + + When a Dublin man shall say, + "Give me a little bread, I pray," + If you do not give him bread + You will be hungry when he is fed. + + And let no priest or magistrate + Scowl upon the poor man's plate, + Asking him the question sly + To which no one can reply. + + + + + STEPHEN'S GREEN + + The wind stood up and gave a shout; + He whistled on his fingers, and + Kicked the withered leaves about + And thumped the branches with his hand, + And said he'd kill, and kill, and kill, + And so he will, and so he will. + + + + + THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS + + As I stood at the door + Sheltered out of the wind, + Something flew in + Which I hardly could find. + + In the dim, gloomy doorway + I searched till I found + A dry withered leaf + Lying down on the ground. + + With thin, pointed claws + And a dry dusty skin,-- + Sure a hall is no place + For a leaf to be in! + + Oh where is your tree, + And your summer and all, + Poor dusty leaf + Whistled into a hall? + + + + + MERRION SQUARE + + Grey clouds on the tinted sky, + A drifting moon, a quiet breeze + Drooping mournfully to cry + In the branches of the trees. + + The crying wind, the sighing trees, + The ruffled stars, the darkness falling + Down the sky, and on the breeze + A belated linnet calling. + + + + + THE BARE TREES + + Unfortunates, on the bare tree! + I mourn for ye + That have no place to house, + But on those winter-white cold boughs + To sit, + (How far apart ye sit) + And brood + In this wide, wintry solitude + That has no song at all to hearten it. + + Fly away, little birds! + Fly away to Spain, + Stay there all the winter + Then come back again; + Come back in the summer + When the leaves are thick; + Little weeny cold birds + Fly away quick. + + + + + DUNPHY'S CORNER + + Pacing slowly down the road + Black horses go, with load on load + Of Dublin people dead, and they + Will be covered up in clay. + + Ere their friends go home, each man + Will shake his head, and drain a can + To Dublin people we will meet + Not again in Grafton Street. + + + + + THE DODDER BANK + + When no flower is nigh, you might + Spy a weed with deep delight; + So, when far from saints and bliss, + God might give a sin a kiss. + + + + + WHITE FIELDS + + In the winter children go + Walking in the fields of snow + Where there is no grass at all, + And the top of every wall, + Every fence, and every tree + Is as white as white can be. + + Pointing out the way they came, + (Every one of them the same) + All across the fields there be + Prints in silver filigree; + And their mothers find them so + By the footprints in the snow. + + + + + THE PAPS OF DANA + + The mountains stand and stare around, + They are far too proud to speak; + Altho' they're rooted in the ground, + Up they go, peak after peak, + Beyond the tallest tree, and still + Soaring over house and hill + Until you'd think they'd never stop + Going up, top over top, + Into the clouds-- + Still I mark + That a sparrow or a lark + Flying just as high, can sing + As if he'd not done anything. + + I think the mountains ought to be + Taught a little modesty. + + + + + DONNELLY'S ORCHARD + + He who locks a gate doth close + Pity's heart against his woes; + But who opens one shall find + God is standing just behind. + + + + + DONNYBROOK + + I saw the moon so broad and bright + Sailing high on a frosty night: + + And the air swung far and far between + The silver disc and the orb of green: + + While here and there a wisp of white + Cloud-film swam on the misty light: + + And crusted thickly on the sky, + High and higher and yet more high, + + Were golden star-points dusted through + The great, wide, silent vault of blue: + + Then I said to me--God is good + And the world is fair--and where I stood + + I knelt me down and bent my head, + And said my prayers, and went to bed. + + + + + THE END + + + + + _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh._ + + + + +_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ + + +THE CROCK OF GOLD. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. + +_THE PALL MALL GAZETTE_.--"A wise, beautiful, and humorous book.... If +you could have given Sterne a soul and made him a poet he might have +produced _The Crock of Gold_." + + +THE DEMI-GODS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. + +_STANDARD_.--"The book is full of fine knowledge and fantasies in every +shade of gaiety and gravity, and we would call its author a magician +did we not feel that everything he writes is perfectly natural to +him.... This book would prove, if proof were needed, that Mr. +Stephens's _Crock of Gold_ was not a mere _tour de force_, but a real +ebullition of genius and a token of all the good work that was to come." + + +HERE ARE LADIES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. + +_THE TIMES_.--"A story may have many and diverse effects upon its +reader. It may leave him smiling, laughing, frowning (perhaps +weeping), angry, perplexed, exalted, afraid. The bits of stories in +_Here are Ladies_, the sketches, essays, snapshots, call them what you +will, will leave him for the most part happy and hungry--for more." + + +THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. + +_PUNCH_.--"A little gem.... It is a very long time indeed since we +read such a human, satisfying book. Every page contains some happy +phrase or illuminating piece of character drawing." + + +SONGS FROM THE CLAY. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. + +_EVENING STANDARD_.--"They have the sense of elfin mischief and keen +spiritual sympathy with inarticulate nature which is so recognisable a +feature of all Mr. Stephens's writings, prose and verse. Many of the +poems are models of that simplicity which is the supreme art of poesy, +and in all may be found an underlying verity, masked may be with smiles +or tears." + + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Seumas Beg, by James Stephens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** + +***** This file should be named 37214.txt or 37214.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37214/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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