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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mountainy Singer, by Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
+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 Mountainy Singer
+
+Author: Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
+Release Date: February 18, 2012 [EBook #38927]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOUNTAINY SINGER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jana Srna
+
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Notes:
+
+    Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
+    as possible, including any inconsistencies in the original.
+
+    Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+
+
+
+  BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
+
+  THE GARDEN OF THE BEES
+  THE RUSHLIGHT
+  THE MAN-CHILD
+  THE GILLY OF CHRIST
+
+
+
+
+  THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+  BY SEOSAMH MacCATHMHAOIL
+
+
+  MAUNSEL AND COMPANY, LTD.
+  96 MID. ABBEY STREET, DUBLIN
+  1909
+
+  All Rights Reserved
+
+
+
+
+  Dedit pauperibus.
+          Lib. Psalm.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                           PAGE
+
+  I am the Mountainy Singer                   1
+
+  When Rooks Fly Homeward                     2
+
+  I Spin my Golden Web                        2
+
+  Cherry Valley                               3
+
+  Darkness                                    3
+
+  My Fidil is Singing                         4
+
+  The Goat Dealer                             4
+
+  Why Crush the Claret Rose                   5
+
+  Lament of Padraic Mor Mac Cruimin           6
+
+  To a Town Girl                              8
+
+  A March Moon                                8
+
+  A Thousand Feet Up                          9
+
+  The Dark                                    9
+
+  Reynardine                                 11
+
+  Snow                                       11
+
+  I am the Gilly of Christ                   12
+
+  Go, Ploughman, Plough                      13
+
+  Go, Reaper                                 14
+
+  The Good People                            14
+
+  The Storm is Still, the Rain hath Ceased   15
+
+  Scare-the-Crows                            16
+
+  A Cradle Song                              17
+
+  Twine the Mazes Thro' and Thro'            18
+
+  The Fighting-Man                           19
+
+  My Mother has a Wee Red Shoe               20
+
+  By a Wondrous Mystery                      21
+
+  I Gather Three Ears of Corn                22
+
+  The Tinkers                                23
+
+  As I Came over the Grey, Grey Hills        24
+
+  A Northern Love-Song                       24
+
+  To the Golden Eagle                        25
+
+  A Prophecy                                 26
+
+  I Met a Walking-Man                        27
+
+  The Ninepenny Fidil                        28
+
+  Grasslands are Fair                        29
+
+  Winter Song                                30
+
+  I Follow a Star                            30
+
+  The Silence of Unlaboured Fields           31
+
+  The Beggar's Wake                          32
+
+  The Besom-Man                              36
+
+  Every Shuiler is Christ                    38
+
+  I Wish and I Wish                          39
+
+  I am the Man-Child                         40
+
+  Fragment                                   41
+
+  At the Whitening of the Dawn               42
+
+  Who are My Friends                         43
+
+  O Glorious Childbearer                     44
+
+  Coronach                                   44
+
+  Twilight Fallen                            45
+
+  The Dawn Whiteness                         45
+
+  The Dwarf                                  46
+
+  I See all Love in Lowly Things             47
+
+  'Tis Pretty tae be in Baile-Liosan         48
+
+  Ciaran, the Master of Horses and Lands     49
+
+  Deep Ways and Dripping Boughs              50
+
+  Night, and I Travelling                    50
+
+  Night-Piece                                51
+
+  At Morning Tide                            51
+
+  The May-Fire                               52
+
+  I Love the Din of Beating Drums            54
+
+  Three Colts Exercising in a Six-acre       54
+
+  The Natural                                55
+
+  On the Top-Stone                           55
+
+  The Women at their Doors                   56
+
+  My Little Dark Love                        57
+
+  I Heard a Piper Piping                     58
+
+  The Clouds go By and By                    58
+
+  Davy Daw                                   59
+
+  Black Sile of the Silver Eye               62
+
+  A Sheep-Dog Barks on the Mountain          63
+
+  Dead Oakleaves Everywhere                  64
+
+  A Night Prayer                             64
+
+  I am the Mountainy Singer                  65
+
+  The Rainbow Spanning a Planet Shower       66
+
+  I will Go with My Father A-Ploughing       67
+
+  The Shining Spaces of the South            68
+
+  Like a Tuft of Ceanabhan                   68
+
+  The Herb-Leech                             69
+
+  Who Buys Land                              70
+
+  The Poet Loosed a Wingèd Song              71
+
+  Sic Transit                                72
+
+
+This book is made up of a selection from the Author's early books, with
+many new poems added.
+
+
+
+
+A LINE'S A SPEECH
+
+
+  A line's a speech;
+  So here's a line
+  To say this pedlar's pack
+  Of mine
+  Is not a book--
+  But a journey thro'
+  Mountainy places,
+  Ever in view
+  Of the sea and the fields,
+  With the rough wind
+  Blowing over the leagues
+  Behind!
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+
+  I am the mountainy singer--
+  The voice of the peasant's dream,
+  The cry of the wind on the wooded hill,
+  The leap of the fish in the stream.
+
+  Quiet and love I sing--
+  The carn on the mountain crest,
+  The cailin in her lover's arms,
+  The child at its mother's breast.
+
+  Beauty and peace I sing--
+  The fire on the open hearth,
+  The cailleach spinning at her wheel,
+  The plough in the broken earth.
+
+  Travail and pain I sing--
+  The bride on the childing bed,
+  The dark man labouring at his rhymes,
+  The ewe in the lambing shed.
+
+  Sorrow and death I sing--
+  The canker come on the corn,
+  The fisher lost in the mountain loch,
+  The cry at the mouth of morn.
+
+  No other life I sing,
+  For I am sprung of the stock
+  That broke the hilly land for bread,
+  And built the nest in the rock!
+
+
+
+
+WHEN ROOKS FLY HOMEWARD
+
+
+  When rooks fly homeward
+  And shadows fall,
+  When roses fold
+  On the hay-yard wall,
+  When blind moths flutter
+  By door and tree,
+        Then comes the quiet
+        Of Christ to me.
+
+  When stars look out
+  On the Children's Path
+  And grey mists gather
+  On carn and rath,
+  When night is one
+  With the brooding sea,
+        Then comes the quiet
+        Of Christ to me.
+
+
+
+
+I SPIN MY GOLDEN WEB
+
+
+  I spin my golden web in the sun:
+  The cherries tremble, the light is done.
+
+  A sudden wind sweeps over the bay,
+  And carries my golden web away!
+
+
+
+
+CHERRY VALLEY
+
+
+  In Cherry Valley the cherries blow:
+  The valley paths are white as snow.
+
+  And in their time with clusters red
+  The scented boughs are crimsonèd.
+
+  Even now the moon is looking thro'
+  The glimmer of the honey dew.
+
+  A petal trembles to the grass,
+  The feet of fairies pass and pass.
+
+  By _them_, I know, all beauty comes
+  To me, a habitan of slums.
+
+  I sing no rune, I say no line:
+  The gift of second sight is mine!
+
+
+
+
+DARKNESS
+
+
+  Darkness.
+  I stop to watch a star shine in the boghole----
+  A star no longer, but a silver ribbon of light.
+  I look at it, and pass on.
+
+
+
+
+MY FIDIL IS SINGING
+
+
+  My fidil is singing
+  Into the air;
+  The wind is stirring,
+  The moon is fair.
+
+  A shadow wanders
+  Along the road;
+  It stops to listen,
+  And drops its load.
+
+  Dreams for a space
+  Upon the moon,
+  Then passes, humming
+  My mountain tune.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOAT-DEALER
+
+
+  Did you see the goat-dealer
+  All in his jacket green?
+  I met him on the rocky road
+  'Twixt this and Baile-doirin.
+
+  A hundred nannies ran before,
+  And a she-ass behind,
+  And then the old wanderer himself,
+  Burnt red with sun and wind.
+
+  He gave me the time-a-day
+  And doitered over the hill,
+  Walloping his gay ashplant
+  And shouting his fill.
+
+  I think I hear him yet,
+  Tho' it's a giant's cry
+  From where I hailed him first,
+  Standing up to the sky.
+
+  Is that Puck Green I see beyond?
+  It is, and the stir is there.
+  By the holy hat, I know then--
+  He's making for Puck Fair!
+
+
+
+
+WHY CRUSH THE CLARET ROSE
+
+
+  Why crush the claret rose
+  That blows
+  So rarely on the tree?
+  Wherefore the enmity, dear girl,
+  Betwixt the rose and thee?
+  Art thou not fair enough
+  With that dark beauty given thee,
+  That thou must crush the rose
+  That blows
+  So rarely on the tree!
+
+
+
+
+LAMENT OF PADRAIC MOR MAC CRUIMIN OVER HIS SONS
+
+
+  I am Padraic Mor mac Cruimin,
+  Son of Domhnall of the Shroud,
+  Piper, like my kind before me,
+  To the household of MacLeod.
+
+  Death is in the seed of Cruimin--
+  All my music is a wail;
+  Early graves await the poets
+  And the pipers of the Gael.
+
+  Samhain gleans the golden harvests
+  Duly in their tide and time,
+  But my body's fruit is blasted
+  Barely past the Bealtein prime.
+
+  Cethlenn claims the fairest fighters
+  Fitly for her own, her own,
+  But my seven sons are stricken
+  Where no battle-pipe is blown.
+
+  Flowers of the forest fallen
+  On the sliding summer stream--
+  Light and life and love are with me,
+  Then are vanished into dream.
+
+  Berried branches of the rowan
+  Rifled in the wizard wind--
+  Clan and generation leave me,
+  Lonely on the heath behind.
+
+  Who will soothe a father's sorrow
+  When his seven sons are gone?
+  Who will watch him in his sleeping?
+  Who will wake him at the dawn?
+
+  Seven sons are taken from me
+  In the compass of a year;
+  Every bone is bose within me,
+  All my blood is white with fear.
+
+  Seven youths of brawn and beauty
+  Moulder in their mountain bed,
+  Up in storied Inis-Scathach
+  Where their fathers reaped their bread.
+
+  Nevermore upon the mountain,
+  Nevermore in fair or field,
+  Shall ye see the seven champions
+  Of the silver-mantled shield.
+
+  I will play the "_Cumhadh na Cloinne_"
+  Wildest of the rowth of tunes
+  Gathered by the love of mortal
+  From the olden druid runes.
+
+  Wail ye! Night is on the water;
+  Wind and wave are roaring loud--
+  _Caoine_ for the fallen children
+  Of the piper of MacLeod.
+
+
+
+
+TO A TOWN GIRL
+
+
+  Violet mystery,
+  Ringleted gold,
+  Whiteness of whiteness,
+  Wherefore so cold?
+
+  Silent you sit there--
+  Spirit and mould--
+  Darkening the dream
+  That must never be told!
+
+
+
+
+A MARCH MOON
+
+
+  A March moon
+  Over the mountain crest,
+  _Ceanabhan_ blowing:
+  Her neck and breast.
+
+  Arbutus berries
+  On the tree head:
+  Her mouth of passion,
+  Dewy and red.
+
+  Cold as cold
+  And hot as hot,
+  She loves me . . . .
+  And she loves me not!
+
+
+
+
+A THOUSAND FEET UP
+
+
+  A thousand feet up: twilight.
+  Westwards, a clump of firtrees silhouetted against a bank of blue
+    cumulus cloud;
+  The June afterglow like a sea behind.
+  The mountain trail, white and clear where human feet have worn it,
+    zigzagging higher and higher till it loses itself in the southern
+    skyline.
+  A patch of young corn to my right hand, swaying and swaying
+    continuously, tho' hardly an air stirs.
+  A falcon wheeling overhead.
+  The moon rising.
+  The damp smell of the night in my nostrils.
+
+  O hills, O hills,
+  To you I lift mine eyes!
+  I kneel down and kiss the grass under my feet.
+  The sense of the mystery and infinity of things overwhelms me,
+    annihilates me almost.
+  I kneel down, and silently worship.
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK
+
+
+  This is the dark.
+  This is the dream that came of the dark.
+  This is the dreamer who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+  This is the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of
+    the dark.
+
+  This is the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed
+    the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the breast that fired the love that followed the look the
+    dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the song was made to the breast that fired the love that
+    followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came
+    of the dark.
+
+  This is the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that
+    fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed
+    the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the rope that swung the sword that tracked the song was made
+    to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer
+    looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the dark that buried the rope that swung the sword that tracked
+    the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the
+    look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the dark, indeed!
+
+
+
+
+REYNARDINE
+
+
+  _If by chance you look for me_
+  _Perhaps you'll not me find,_
+  _For I'll be in my castle--_
+  _Enquire for Reynardine!_
+
+  Sun and dark he courted me--
+  His eyes were red as wine:
+  He took me for his leman,
+  Did my sweet Reynardine.
+
+  Sun and dark the gay horn blows,
+  The beagles run like wind:
+  They know not where he harbours,
+  The fairy Reynardine.
+
+  _If by chance you look for me_
+  _Perhaps you'll not me find,_
+  _For I'll be in my castle--_
+  _Enquire for Reynardine!_
+
+
+
+
+SNOW
+
+
+  Hills that were dark
+  At sparing-time last night
+  Now in the dawn-ring
+  Glimmer cold and white.
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE GILLY OF CHRIST
+
+
+  I am the gilly of Christ,
+  The mate of Mary's Son;
+  I run the roads at seeding time,
+  And when the harvest's done.
+
+  I sleep among the hills,
+  The heather is my bed;
+  I dip the termon-well for drink,
+  And pull the sloe for bread.
+
+  No eye has ever seen me,
+  But shepherds hear me pass,
+  Singing at fall of even
+  Along the shadowed grass.
+
+  The beetle is my bellman,
+  The meadow-fire my guide,
+  The bee and bat my ambling nags
+  When I have need to ride.
+
+  All know me only the Stranger,
+  Who sits on the Saxon's height;
+  He burned the bacach's little house
+  On last Saint Brigid's Night.
+
+  He sups off silver dishes,
+  And drinks in a golden horn,
+  But he will wake a wiser man
+  Upon the Judgment Morn!
+
+  I am the gilly of Christ,
+  The mate of Mary's Son;
+  I run the roads at seeding time,
+  And when the harvest's done.
+
+  The seed I sow is lucky,
+  The corn I reap is red,
+  And whoso sings the Gilly's Rann
+  Will never cry for bread.
+
+
+
+
+GO, PLOUGHMAN, PLOUGH
+
+
+  Go, ploughman, plough
+  The mearing lands,
+  The meadow lands,
+  The mountain lands:
+  All life is bare
+  Beneath your share,
+  All love is in your lusty hands.
+
+  Up, horses, now!
+  And straight and true
+  Let every broken furrow run:
+  The strength you sweat
+  Shall blossom yet
+  In golden glory to the sun.
+
+
+
+
+GO, REAPER
+
+
+  Go, reaper,
+  Speed and reap,
+  Go take the harvest
+  Of the plough:
+  The wheat is standing
+  Broad and deep,
+  The barley glumes
+  Are golden now.
+
+  Labour is hard,
+  But it endures
+  Like love:
+  The land is yours:
+  Go reap the life
+  It gives you now,
+  O sunbrowned master
+  Of the plough!
+
+
+
+
+THE GOOD PEOPLE
+
+
+  The millway path looks like a wraith,
+  The lock is black as ink,
+  And silently in stream and sky
+  The stars begin to blink.
+
+  I see them pass along the grass
+  With slow and solemn tread:
+  Aoibheall, their queen, is in between--
+  A corpse is at their head!
+
+  They wander on with faces wan,
+  And dirges sad as wind.
+  I know not, but it may be that
+  The dead's of human kind.
+
+
+
+
+THE STORM IS STILL, THE RAIN HATH CEASED
+
+
+  The storm is still, the rain hath ceased
+  To vex the beauty of the east:
+  A linnet singeth in the wood
+  His hermit song of gratitude.
+
+  So shall I sing when life is done
+  To greet the glory of the sun;
+  And cloud and star and stream and sea
+  Shall dance for very ecstasy!
+
+
+
+
+SCARE-THE-CROWS
+
+
+  Twopence a day for scaring crows--
+  Tho' the rain beats and the wind blows!
+
+  The scholars think I've little wit,
+  But, God! I've got my share of it.
+
+  Why does the gorbing land-shark
+  Leave ploughed rigs for the green park?
+
+  Where little's to find, and nothing's to eat
+  But rabbits' droppings and pheasants' meat.
+
+  He knows better than come my way
+  Between the mouth and the tail of day.
+
+  For one lick of my hurding wattle
+  Would lay him out like a showman's bottle!
+
+  And the thoughts that rise in my crazed head
+  When the cloud is low and the wind's dead.
+
+  Where you see only clay and stones
+  I see swords and blanching bones. . . .
+
+  But I'll leave you now--it's gone six,
+  And the smoke is curling over the ricks.
+
+  And it's hardly like that the land-shark
+  Will trouble the furrows after dark.
+
+
+
+
+A CRADLE-SONG
+
+
+  Sleep, white love, sleep,
+  A cedarn cradle holds thee,
+  And twilight, like a silver-woven coverlid,
+  Enfolds thee.
+  Moon and star keep charmèd watch
+  Upon thy lying;
+  Water plovers thro' the dusk
+  Are tremulously crying.
+        Sleep, white love mine,
+        Till day doth shine.
+
+  Sleep, white love, sleep,
+  The daylight wanes, and deeper
+  Gathers the blue darkness
+  O'er the cradle of the sleeper.
+  Cliodhna's curachs, carmine-oared,
+  On Loch-da-linn are gleaming;
+  Blind bats flutter thro' the night,
+  And carrion birds are screaming.
+        Sleep, white love mine,
+        Till day doth shine.
+
+  Sleep, white love, sleep,
+  The holy mothers, Anne and Mary,
+  Sit high in heaven, dreaming
+  On the seven ends of Eire.
+  Brigid sits beside them,
+  Spinning lamb-white wool on whorls,
+  Singing fragrant songs of love
+  To little naked boys and girls.
+        Sleep, white love mine,
+        Till day doth shine.
+
+
+
+
+TWINE THE MAZES THRO' AND THRO'
+
+
+  Twine the mazes thro' and thro'
+  Over beach and margent pale;
+  Not a bawn appears in view,
+  Not a sail!
+
+  Round about!
+  In and out!
+  Thro' the stones and sandy bars
+  To the music of the stars!
+  The asteroidal fire that dances
+  Nightly in the northern blue,
+  The brightest of the boreal lances,
+  Dances not so light as you,
+        Cliodhna!
+  Dances not so light as you.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIGHTING-MAN
+
+
+  A fighting-man he was,
+  Guts and soul;
+  His blood as hot and red
+  As that on Cain's hand-towel.
+
+  A copper-skinned six-footer,
+  Hewn out of the rock.
+  Who would stand up against
+  His hammer-knock?
+
+  Not a sinner--
+  No, and not one dared!
+  Giants showed clean heels
+  When his arm was bared.
+
+  I've seen him swing an anvil
+  Fifty feet,
+  Break a bough in two,
+  And tear a twisted sheet.
+
+  And the music of his roar--
+  Like oaks in thunder cleaving;
+  Lips foaming red froth,
+  And flanks heaving.
+
+  God! a goodly man,
+  A Gael, the last
+  Of those that stood with Dan
+  On Mullach-Maist!
+
+
+
+
+MY MOTHER HAS A WEE RED SHOE
+
+
+  My mother has a wee red shoe--
+  She bought it off a bacach-man;
+  And all the neighbours say it's true
+  He stole it off a Leath-brogan.
+        Bacach-man, bacach-man,
+        Where did you get it?
+        Faith now, says he,
+        In my leather wallet!
+
+  My father has an arrow-head--
+  He begged it off poor Peig na Blath;
+  And Mor, the talking-woman, said
+  She found it in a fairy rath.
+        Peig na Blath, Peig na Blath,
+        Where did you get it?
+        Faith now, says she,
+        In my wincey jacket!
+
+  My brother has a copper pot--
+  He tryst' it wi' a shuiler-man;
+  And gossip says it's like as not
+  He truff'd it from a Clobhair-ceann.
+        Shuiler-man, shuiler-man,
+        Where did you get it?
+        Faith now, says he,
+        In my breeches' pocket!
+
+
+
+
+BY A WONDROUS MYSTERY
+
+
+  By a wondrous mystery
+  Christ of Mary's fair body
+  Upon a middle winter's morn,
+  Between the tides of night and day,
+  In Ara's holy isle was born.
+  Mary went upon her knee
+  Travailing in ecstasy,
+  And Brigid, mistress of the birth,
+  Full reverently and tenderly
+  Laid the child upon the earth.
+  Then the dark-eyed rose did blow,
+  And rivers leaped from out the snow.
+  Earth grew lyrical: the grass,
+  As the light winds chanced to pass--
+  Than magian music more profound--
+  Murmured in a maze of sound.
+  White incense rose upon the hills
+  As from a thousand thuribles,
+  And in the east a seven-rayed star
+  Proclaimed the news to near and far.
+  The shepherd danced, the gilly ran,
+  The boatman left his curachan;
+  The king came riding on the wind
+  To offer gifts of coin and kind;
+  The druid dropped his ogham wand,
+  And said, "Another day's at hand,
+  A newer dawn is in the sky:
+  I put my withered sapling by.
+  The druid Christ has taken breath
+  To sing the runes of life and death."
+
+
+
+
+I GATHER THREE EARS OF CORN
+
+
+  I gather three ears of corn,
+  And the Black Earl from over the sea
+  Sails across in his silver ships,
+  And takes two out of the three.
+
+  I might build a house on the hill
+  And a barn of the speckly stone,
+  And tell my little stocking of gold,
+  If the Earl would let me alone.
+
+  But he has no thought for me--
+  Only the thought of his share,
+  And the softness of the linsey shifts
+  His lazy daughters wear.
+
+  There is a God in heaven,
+  And angels, score on score,
+  Who will not see my hearthstone cold
+  Because I'm crazed and poor.
+
+  My childer have my blood,
+  And when they get their beards
+  They will not be content to run
+  As gillies to their herds!
+
+  The day will come, maybe,
+  When we can have our own,
+  And the Black Earl will come to us
+  Begging the bacach's bone!
+
+
+
+
+THE TINKERS
+
+
+  "One _ciarog_ knows another _ciarog_,
+  And why shouldn't I know you, you rogue?"
+  "They say a stroller will never pair
+  Except with one of his kind and care . . ."
+  So talked two tinkers prone in the shough--
+  And then, as the fun got a trifle rough,
+  They flitted: he with his corn-straw bass,
+  She with her load of tin and brass:
+  As mad a match as you would see
+  In a twelvemonth's ride thro' Christendie.
+  He roared--they both were drunk as hell:
+  She danced, and danced it mighty well!
+  I could have eyed them longer, but
+  They staggered for the Quarry Cut:
+  That half-perch seemed to trouble them more
+  Than all the leagues they'd tramped before.
+  Some'll drink at the fair the morrow,
+  And some'll sup with the spoon of sorrow;
+  But whether _they_'ll get as far as Droichid
+  The night--well, who knows that but God?
+
+
+
+
+AS I CAME OVER THE GREY, GREY HILLS
+
+
+  As I came over the grey, grey hills
+  And over the grey, grey water,
+  I saw the gilly leading on,
+  And the white Christ following after.
+
+  Where and where does the gilly lead?
+  And where is the white Christ faring?
+  They've travelled the four grey sounds of Orc,
+  And the four grey seas of Eirinn.
+
+  The moon it set and the wind's away,
+  And the song in the grass is dying,
+  And a silver cloud on the silent sea
+  Like a shrouding sheet is lying.
+
+  But Christ and the gilly will follow on
+  Till the ring in the east is showing,
+  And the awny corn is red on the hills,
+  And the golden light is glowing!
+
+
+
+
+A NORTHERN LOVE-SONG
+
+
+  Brigidin Ban of the lint-white locks,
+  What was it gave you that flaxen hair,
+  Long as the summer heath in the rocks?
+  What was it gave you those eyes of fire,
+  Lip so waxen and cheek so wan?
+  Tell me, tell me, Brigidin Ban,
+  Little white bride of my heart's desire.
+
+  Was it the Good People stole you away,
+  Little white changeling, Brigidin Ban?
+  Carried you off in the ring of the dawn,
+  Laid like a queen on her purple car,
+  Carried you back 'twixt the night and the day;
+  Gave you that fortune of flaxen hair,
+  Gave you those eyes of wandering fire,
+  Lit at the wheel of the southern star;
+  Gave you that look so far away,
+  Lip so waxen and cheek so wan?
+  Tell me, tell me, Brigidin Ban,
+  Little white bride of my heart's desire.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE GOLDEN EAGLE
+
+
+  Wanderer of the mountain,
+  Winger of the blue,
+  From this stormy rock
+  I send my love to you.
+
+  Take me for your lover,
+  Dark and fierce and true--
+  Wanderer of the mountain,
+  Winger of the blue!
+
+
+
+
+A PROPHECY
+
+
+  "The loins of the Galldacht
+   Shall wither like grass"--
+   Strange words I heard said
+   At the Fair of Dun-eas.
+
+  "A bard shall be born
+   Of the seed of the folk,
+   To break with his singing
+   The bond and the yoke.
+
+  "A sword, white as ashes,
+   Shall fall from the sky,
+   To rise, red as blood,
+   On the charge and the cry.
+
+  "Stark pipers shall blow,
+   Stout drummers shall beat,
+   And the shout of the north
+   Shall be heard in the street.
+
+  "The strong shall go down,
+   And the weak shall prevail,
+   And a glory shall sit
+   On the sign of the Gaodhal.
+
+  "Then Emer shall come
+   In good time by her own,
+   And a man of the people
+   Shall speak from the throne."
+
+   Strange words I heard said
+   At the Fair of Dun-eas--
+  "The Gaodhaldacht shall live,
+   The Galldacht shall pass!"
+
+
+
+
+I MET A WALKING-MAN
+
+
+  I met a walking-man;
+  His head was old and grey.
+  I gave him what I had
+  To crutch him on his way.
+  The man was Mary's Son, I'll swear;
+  A glory trembled in his hair!
+
+  And since that blessed day
+  I've never known the pinch:
+  I plough a broad townland,
+  And dig a river-inch;
+  And on my hearth the fire is bright
+  For all that walk by day or night.
+
+
+
+
+THE NINEPENNY FIDIL
+
+
+  My father and mother were Irish,
+  And I am Irish, too;
+  I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,
+  And it is Irish, too.
+  I'm up in the morning early
+  To meet the dawn of day,
+  And to the lintwhite's piping
+  The many's the tune I play.
+
+  One pleasant eve in June time
+  I met a lochrie-man:
+  His face and hands were weazen,
+  His height was not a span.
+  He boor'd me for my fidil--
+  "You know," says he, "like you,
+  My father and mother were Irish,
+  And I am Irish, too!"
+
+  He took my wee red fidil,
+  And such a tune he turned--
+  The Glaise in it whispered,
+  The Lionan in it m'urned.
+  Says he, "My lad, you're lucky--
+  I wish t' I was like you:
+  You're lucky in your birth-star,
+  And in your fidil, too!"
+
+  He gave me back my fidil,
+  My fidil-stick, also,
+  And stepping like a mayboy,
+  He jumped the Leargaidh Knowe.
+  I never saw him after,
+  Nor met his gentle kind;
+  But, whiles, I think I hear him
+  A-wheening in the wind!
+
+  My father and mother were Irish,
+  And I am Irish, too:
+  I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,
+  And it is Irish, too.
+  I'm up in the morning early
+  To meet the dawn of day,
+  And to the lintwhite's piping
+  The many's the tune I play.
+
+
+
+
+GRASSLANDS ARE FAIR
+
+
+  Grasslands are fair,
+  Ploughlands are rare.
+  Grasslands are lonely,
+  Ploughlands are comely.
+  Grasslands breed cattle,
+  Ploughlands feed people.
+  Grasslands are not wrought,
+  Ploughlands swell with thought.
+
+
+
+
+WINTER SONG
+
+
+  'Twould skin a fairy
+  It is so airy,
+  And the snow it nips so cold:
+  Shepherd and squire
+  Sit by the fire,
+  The sheep are in the fold.
+
+  You have your wish--
+  A reeking dish,
+  And rubble walls about;
+  So pity the poor
+  That have no door
+  To keep the winter out!
+
+
+
+
+I FOLLOW A STAR
+
+
+  I follow a star
+  Burning deep in the blue,
+  A sign on the hills
+  Lit for me and for you!
+
+  Moon-red is the star,
+  Halo-ringed like a rood,
+  Christ's heart in its heart set,
+  Streaming with blood.
+
+  Follow the gilly
+  Beyond to the west:
+  He leads where the Christ lies
+  On Mary's white breast.
+
+  King, priest and prophet--
+  A child, and no more--
+  Adonai the Maker!
+  Come, let us adore.
+
+
+
+
+THE SILENCE OF UNLABOURED FIELDS
+
+
+  The silence of unlaboured fields
+  Lies like a judgment on the air:
+  A human voice is never heard:
+  The sighing grass is everywhere--
+  The sighing grass, the shadowed sky,
+  The cattle crying wearily!
+
+  Where are the lowland people gone?
+  Where are the sun-dark faces now?
+  The love that kept the quiet hearth,
+  The strength that held the speeding plough?
+  Grasslands and lowing herds are good,
+  But better human flesh and blood!
+
+
+
+
+THE BEGGAR'S WAKE
+
+
+  I watched at a beggar's wake
+  In the hills of Bearna-barr,
+  And the old men were telling stories
+  Of Troy and the Trojan war.
+
+  And a flickering fire of bog-deal
+  Burned on the open hearth,
+  And the night-wind roared in the chimney,
+  And darkness was over the earth.
+
+  And Tearlach Ban MacGiolla,
+  The piper of Gort, was there,
+  And he sat and he dreamed apart
+  In the arms of a sugan chair.
+
+  And sudden he woke from his dream
+  Like a dream-frightened child,
+  And his lips were pale and trembling,
+  And his eyes were wild.
+
+  And he stood straight up, and he cried,
+  With a wave of his withered hand,
+  "The days of the grasping stranger
+  Shall be few in the land!
+
+  "The scrip of his doom is written,
+  The thread of his shroud is spun;
+  The net of his strength is broken,
+  The tide of his life is run. . . ."
+
+  Then he sank to his seat like a stone,
+  And the watchers stared aghast,
+  And they crossed themselves for fear
+  As the coffin cart went past.
+
+  . . . . . . . .
+
+  "At the battle of Gleann-muic-duibh
+  The fate the poets foretold
+  Shall fall on the neck of the stranger,
+  And redden the plashy mould.
+
+  "The bagmen carry the story
+  The circuit of Ireland round,
+  And they sing it at fair and hurling
+  From Edair to Acaill Sound.
+
+  "And the folk repeat it over
+  About the winter fires,
+  Till the heart of each one listening
+  Is burning with fierce desires.
+
+  "In the Glen of the Bristleless Boar
+  They say the battle shall be,
+  Where Breiffne's iron mountains
+  Look on the Western sea.
+
+  "In the Glen of the Pig of Diarmad,
+  On Gulban's hither side,
+  The battle shall be broken
+  About the Samhain tide.
+
+  "Forth from the ancient hills,
+  With war-cries strident and loud,
+  The people shall march at daybreak,
+  Massed in a clamorous crowd.
+
+  "War-pipes shall scream and cry,
+  And battle-banners shall wave,
+  And every stone on Gulban
+  Shall mark a hero's grave.
+
+  "The horses shall wade to their houghs
+  In rivers of smoking blood,
+  Charging thro' heaps of corpses
+  Scattered in whinny and wood.
+
+  "The girths shall rot from their bellies
+  After the battle is done,
+  For lack of a hand to undo them
+  And hide them out of the sun.
+
+  "It shall not be the battle
+  Between the folk and the Sidhe
+  At the rape of a bride from her bed
+  Or a babe from its mother's knee.
+
+  "It shall not be the battle
+  Between the white hosts flying
+  And the shrieking devils of hell
+  For a priest at the point of dying.
+
+  "It shall not be the battle
+  Between the sun and the leaves,
+  Between the winter and summer,
+  Between the storm and the sheaves.
+
+  "But a battle to doom and death
+  Between the Gael and the Gall,
+  Between the sword of light
+  And the shield of darkness and thrall.
+
+  "And the Gael shall have the mastery
+  After a month of days,
+  And the lakes of the west shall cry,
+  And the hills of the north shall blaze.
+
+  "And the neck of the fair-haired Gall
+  Shall be as a stool for the feet
+  Of Ciaran, chief of the Gael,
+  Sitting in Emer's seat!"--
+
+  . . . . . . . .
+
+  At this MacGiolla fainted,
+  Tearing his yellow hair,
+  And the young men cursed the stranger,
+  And the old men mouthed a prayer.
+
+  For they knew the day would come,
+  As sure as the piper said,
+  When many loves would be parted,
+  And many graves would be red.
+
+  And the wake broke up in tumult,
+  And the women were left alone,
+  Keening over the beggar
+  That died at Gobnat's Stone.
+
+
+
+
+THE BESOM-MAN
+
+
+  Did you see Paidin,
+  Paidin, the besom-man,
+  Last night as you came by
+  Over the mountain?
+
+  A barth of new heather
+  He bore on his shoulder,
+  And a bundle of whitlow-grass
+  Under his oxter.
+
+  I spied him as he passed
+  Beyond the carn head,
+  But no eye saw him
+  At the hill foot after.
+
+  What has come over him?
+  The women are saying.
+  What can have crossed
+  Paidin, the besom-man?
+
+  The bogholes he knew
+  As the curlews know them,
+  And the rabbits' pads,
+  And the derelict quarries.
+
+  He was humming a tune--
+  The "Enchanted Valley"--
+  As he passed me westward
+  Beyond the carn.
+
+  I stood and I listened,
+  For his singing was strange:
+  It rang in my ears
+  The long night after.
+
+  What has come over
+  Paidin, the besom-man?
+  What can have crossed him?
+  The women keep saying.
+
+  They talk of the fairies--
+  And, God forgive me,
+  Paidin knew _them_
+  Like his prayers!
+
+  Will you fetch word
+  Up to the cross-roads
+  If you see track of him,
+  Living or dead?
+
+  The boys are loafing
+  Without game or caper;
+  And the dark piper
+  Is gone home with the birds.
+
+
+
+
+EVERY SHUILER IS CHRIST
+
+
+  Every shuiler is Christ,
+  Then be not hard or cold:
+  The bit that goes for Christ
+  Will come a hundred-fold.
+
+  The ear upon your corn
+  Will burst before its time;
+  Your roots will yield a crop
+  Without manure or lime.
+
+  And every sup you give
+  To crutch him on his way
+  Will fill your churn with milk,
+  And choke your barn with hay.
+
+  Then when the shuiler begs,
+  Be neither hard nor cold;
+  The share that goes for Christ
+  Will come a hundred-fold.
+
+
+
+
+I WISH AND I WISH
+
+
+  I wish and I wish
+  And I wish I were
+  A golden bee
+  In the blue of the air,
+  Winging my way
+  At the mouth of day
+  To the honey marges
+  Of Loch-ciuin-ban;
+  Or a little green drake,
+  Or a silver swan,
+  Floating upon
+  The stream of Aili,
+  And I to be swimming
+  Gaily, gaily!
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE MAN-CHILD
+
+
+  I am the man-child. From a virgin womb,
+  Begot among the hills of virgin loins,
+  The generation of a hundred kings,
+  I come. I am the man-child glorious,
+  The love-son of the second birth foretold
+  By western bards, the fruit of form and strength
+  By nature's prophylactic forethought joined
+  In marriage with their kind, the crown, the peak,
+  The summit of the scheme of things, the pride
+  And glory of the hand of God.
+
+                                    Behold!
+  Where in the spaces of the morning world
+  The sunrise shines my harbinger, the hills
+  Leap up, the young winds sing, the rivers dance,
+  The leaving forests laugh, the eagles scream;
+  For I am one with them, a mate, a brother,
+  Bound by nature to the human soul
+  That thro' the accidents of nature runs.
+  And wherefore do they leap and laugh and sing,
+  And dance like vestals on a holyday?
+  Because their hearts are glad, and mænad-like,
+  They fain would share the frenzied cup they drink
+  With me, the man-child glorious.
+
+                                    I am he,
+  Even he, the master-mould, the paragon!
+  Behold me in my nonage, child and man:
+  The ripest grape on beauty's procreant vine,
+  The reddest apple of ingathering:
+  Perfect in form, of peerless strength, and free
+  As Caoilte when he roamed the primal hills
+  (Those "wildernesses rich with liberty"),
+  A hero that the shocks of chance might strike,
+  But never tame, a giant druid-ringed,
+  A god-like savage of the golden days
+  Ere service shackled action: free itself
+  As Oisin when he strayed in Doire-cairn,
+  His hand upon the mountain top, his feet
+  Fixt in the flowing sea, his holy head
+  Crowned by a flight of birds, acclaiming him
+  The singer of the dawn.
+
+
+
+
+FRAGMENT
+
+
+  I stand upon the summit now:
+  The falcon, flying from the heath,
+  Trails darkly o'er the mountain brow
+  And drops into the gloom beneath.
+  Night falls, and with it comes the wind
+  That blew on Fionn time out of mind,
+  When weary of love-feasts and wars
+  He left his comrades all behind
+  To dream upon the quiet stars.
+  Here on the lonely mountain height
+  Is ecstasy and living light--
+  The living inner light that burns
+  With magic caught from those white urns
+  That wander thro' the trackless blue
+  Forever, touching those they know
+  With beauty, and the things that come
+  Of beauty. Earth lies at my feet,
+  A dumb, vast shadow, vast as dumb.
+
+
+
+
+AT THE WHITENING OF THE DAWN
+
+
+  At the whitening of the dawn,
+  As I came o'er the windy water,
+  I saw the salmon-fisher's daughter,
+  Nuala ni Cholumain.
+        Nuala ni Cholumain,
+        Nuala ni Cholumain,
+        Palest lily of the dawn
+        Is Nuala ni Cholumain.
+
+  In the dark of evendown
+  I went o'er the quiet water,
+  Dreaming of the fisher's daughter
+  And her bothy in the town.
+        And I made this simple rann
+        Ere the whitening of the dawn,
+        Singing to the beauty wan
+        Of Nuala ni Cholumain.
+
+
+
+
+WHO ARE MY FRIENDS
+
+
+  Who are my friends,
+  Faithful and true?
+  Who but the stars
+  That burn in the blue.
+
+  Who but the sun
+  That sinketh so red,
+  Who but the clay
+  That giveth me bread.
+
+  Who but the hills,
+  Who but the sea,
+  Who but the flowers
+  That fold on the tree.
+
+  Who but the moths
+  That flutter and pass,
+  Who but the lambs
+  That cry in the grass.
+
+  Who but the darkness,
+  Who but the rain,
+  Who but the grave, the grave--
+  All else are vain!
+        All else are vain!
+
+
+
+
+O GLORIOUS CHILDBEARER
+
+
+  O glorious childbearer,
+  O secret womb,
+  O gilded bridechamber, from which hath come the sightly Bridegroom forth,
+  O amber veil,
+  Thou sittest in heaven, the white love of the Gael.
+  Thy head is crowned with stars, thy radiant hair
+  Shines like a river thro' the twilight air;
+  Thou walkest by trodden ways and trackless seas,
+  Immaculate of man's infirmities.
+
+
+
+
+CORONACH
+
+
+  Come, pipes, sound
+  A crooning coronach round,
+  Till hill and hollow glen and shadowed lake o'erflow
+  With welling music of our woe.
+  Beat, beat, ye muffled drums, ye drones and chanters wail,
+  With heartbreak of the baffled, battle-broken Gael.
+  The clay is deep on Ireland's breast:
+  Her proud and bleeding heart is laid at last to rest . .
+      To rest . . to rest!
+
+
+
+
+TWILIGHT FALLEN
+
+
+  Twilight fallen white and cold,
+  Child in cradle, lamb in fold;
+  Glimmering thro' the ghostly trees,
+  Gemini and Pleiades.
+        Wounds of Eloim,
+        Weep on me!
+
+  Black-winged vampires flitting by,
+  Curlews crying in the sky;
+  Grey mists wreathing from the ground,
+  Wrapping rath and burial mound.
+        Wounds of Eloim,
+        Weep on me!
+
+  Heard, like some sad Gaelic strain,
+  Ocean's ancient voice in pain;
+  Darkness folding hill and wood,
+  Sorrow drinking at my blood.
+        Wounds of Eloim,
+        Weep on me!
+
+
+
+
+THE DAWN WHITENESS
+
+
+  The dawn whiteness.
+  A bank of slate-grey cloud lying heavily over it.
+  The moon, like a hunted thing, dropping into the cloud.
+
+
+
+
+THE DWARF
+
+
+  Look at him now, the son,
+  And the churchyard twist in his foot,
+  Standing there by his mother's door,
+  As if he had taken root!
+
+  She crossed a grave, they say,
+  On a black day in spring,
+  And bore him in the seventh month--
+  A poor, misshapen thing.
+
+  Kneeling down in the dark
+  She travailed without a cry,
+  And gave him the mothering kiss
+  Between the earth and the sky.
+
+  He licks cuckoo-spittle, they say,
+  And eats the dung of the roads,
+  Mocking the journeymen
+  As they pass by with their loads.
+
+  Look at his little face--
+  As grey as wool is grey--
+  And the cast in his green eye,
+  So wild and far away.
+
+  Does he see Magh-meala?
+  Is his breath human breath?
+  Are his thoughts of the hidden things
+  Untouched by time and death?
+
+  Hanging there by the half-door,
+  Dangling his devil's foot,
+  Stock-still on the threshold,
+  As if he had taken root!
+
+
+
+
+I SEE ALL LOVE IN LOWLY THINGS
+
+
+  I see all love in lowly things,
+  No less than in the lusts of kings:
+  All beauty, shape and comeliness,
+  All valour, strength and gentleness,
+  All genius, wit and holiness.
+
+  Out of corruption comes the flower,
+  The corn is kindred with the clay;
+  The plough-hand is a hand of power,
+  Nobler than gold, brighter than day.
+
+  Then let the leper lift his head,
+  The cripple dance, the captive sing,
+  The beggar reap and eat his bread--
+  He is no baser than a king!
+
+
+
+
+'TIS PRETTY TAE BE IN BAILE-LIOSAN
+
+
+  'Tis pretty tae be in Baile-liosan,
+  'Tis pretty tae be in green Magh-luan;
+  'Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda,
+  Beeking under the eaves in June.
+  The cummers are out wi' their knitting and spinning,
+  The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa',
+  And o'er the white road the clachan caddies
+  Play at their marlies and goaling-ba'.
+
+  O, fair are the fields o' Baile-liosan,
+  And fair are the faes o' green Magh-luan;
+  But fairer the flowers o' Newtownbreda,
+  Wet wi' dew in the eves o' June.
+  'Tis pleasant tae saunter the clachan thoro'
+  When day sinks mellow o'er Dubhais hill,
+  And feel their fragrance sae softly breathing
+  Frae croft and causey and window-sill.
+
+  O, brave are the haughs o' Baile-liosan,
+  And brave are the halds o' green Magh-luan;
+  But braver the hames o' Newtownbreda,
+  Twined about wi' the pinks o' June.
+  And just as the face is sae kindly withouten,
+  The heart within is as guid as gold--
+  Wi' new fair ballants and merry music,
+  And cracks cam' down frae the days of old.
+
+  'Tis pretty tae be in Baile-liosan,
+  'Tis pretty tae be in green Magh-luan;
+  'Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda,
+  Beeking under the eaves in June.
+  The cummers are out wi' their knitting and spinning,
+  The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa',
+  And o'er the white road the clachan caddies
+  Play at their marlies and goaling-ba'.
+
+
+
+
+CIARAN, THE MASTER OF HORSES AND LANDS
+
+
+  Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,
+  Once had no more than the horn on his hands.
+
+  But Ciaran is rich now, and Ciaran is great,
+  And rides with the air of a squire of estate.
+
+  O Christ! and to see the man up on the back
+  Of a thoroughbred stallion, a bay or a black!
+
+  There's not a horsebreeder from Banna to Laoi
+  Can handle the snaffle so pretty as he!
+
+  And Ciaran, for all, has the wit of a child,
+  A heart just as soft, and an eye just as mild.
+
+  No maker of ballads puts curse at his door:
+  He handsels the singer, and harbours the poor.
+
+  For Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,
+  Once had no more than the horn on his hands.
+
+
+
+
+DEEP WAYS AND DRIPPING BOUGHS
+
+
+  Deep ways and dripping boughs,
+  The fog falling drearily;
+  Cowherds calling on their cows,
+  And I crying wearily,
+  Wearily, wearily, out-a-door,
+  Houseless, hearthless, coatless, kindless,
+  Poorest of the wandering poor.
+
+  I am the beggar Christ--
+  Christ that calmed the castling flood!
+  Cross and thorn have not sufficed
+  To punish me as you would;
+  But out-a-door in wind and rain,
+  Houseless, hearthless, coatless, kindless,
+  You keep me wandering in pain.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT, AND I TRAVELLING
+
+
+  Night, and I travelling.
+  An open door by the wayside,
+  Throwing out a shaft of warm yellow light.
+  A whiff of peat-smoke;
+  A gleam of delf on the dresser within;
+  A woman's voice crooning, as if to a child.
+  I pass on into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT-PIECE
+
+
+  Fill me, O stars,
+  As with an olden tune.
+  Look thro' your cloudy bars,
+  O summer moon;
+  Look thro', and drench in silver light
+  My soul this night.
+
+  O brief, enchanted dream
+  Of sea and sky,
+  Of ploughland, meadow, stream,
+  And twilight loth to die,
+  Of fire and dew--
+  My soul is one with you!
+
+
+
+
+AT MORNING TIDE
+
+
+  At morning tide,
+  Upon the hill of Sliabh-na-mBan,
+  I saw the dead Christ glorified!
+  His body, like the risen sun,
+  Was all too bright to look upon:
+  The blue air burned
+  About him: in his side
+  And hands and feet there shone
+  (Thro' stabs and gashes gaping wide)
+  The golden glory of his blood:
+  The gilly stood
+  Upon his right hand: at his feet
+  The fishers, Peter, James and John,
+  Knelt worshipping
+  With outstretched arms, and eyes
+  To heaven turned:
+  And Maria, his mother sweet,
+  (The partner of his mysteries),
+  And Magdalen and Salome
+  Came thro' the doorway of the day
+  Behind him, weeping.
+  . . . . Then a cloud came o'er
+  My senses, and I saw and heard no more!
+
+
+
+
+THE MAY-FIRE
+
+
+  Come away, O Maire Ban,
+  Come away, come away
+  Where the heads of _ceanabhan_
+  Tremble in the twilight air,
+  And the rushes nod and sway,
+  And no other sound is heard
+  But the swaying of the rushes,
+  And the shouts from Croc-an-air,
+  And the singing of the fidils,
+  And the laughing of the dancers
+  Round about the yellow fire,
+  And the scream of the water-bird.
+
+  Come away, O life of me,
+  O bone of me, O blood of me--
+  Feilim has a tale to tell:
+  He would own his love for thee,
+  Smitten first at Mura's well,
+  Bitten at the Lammas pattern,
+  By the blessed Mura's well.
+  He would tell thee, Maire Ban,
+  How his pulses leap and thrill
+  Quicker than the old men's fidils,
+  Singing out from yonder hill.
+
+  Come away, O heart's desire,
+  From the ruddy-featured circle,
+  From the story-telling circle,
+  By the wreathing Bealtein fire.
+  Come away, come away,
+  Come away, O Maire Ban,
+  Where the heads of _ceanabhan_
+  Tremble in the twilight air,
+  And the voice of love is heard
+  Whispering o'er the bending rushes
+  Like a hidden, holy bird.
+  Come away, O Maire Ban--
+  Feilim's face is fairy-wan,
+  Feilim's heart is sick and pale,
+  Languishing for love of thee.
+
+
+
+
+I LOVE THE DIN OF BEATING DRUMS
+
+
+  I love the din of beating drums,
+  The bellowing pipe, the shrieking fife:
+  The discord and the dissonance is my blood, my breath, my life!
+  The discord and the dissonance is my life!
+
+  Away with flutes and dancing lutes--
+  Such music likes but lovers' ears:
+  Give me the beating battledrum,
+  The gunpeal and the cheers!
+  The bellowing pipe and battledrum,
+  The gunpeal and the cheers!
+
+
+
+
+THREE COLTS EXERCISING IN A SIX-ACRE
+
+
+  Three colts exercising in a six-acre,
+  A hilly sweep of unfenced grass over the road.
+
+  What a picture they make against the skyline!
+  Necks stretched, hocks moving royally, tails flying;
+  Farm-lads up, and they crouching low on their withers.
+
+  I have a journey to go--
+  A lawyer to see, and a paper to sign in the Tontine--
+  But I slacken my pace to watch them.
+
+
+
+
+THE NATURAL
+
+
+  "Lend us the loan of a halfpenny, sir!"--
+  And he passed with his splendid nose in the air.
+
+  A gaunt, grey carcase of skin and bones,
+  As cold as the river, as hard as the stones.
+
+  To him the highway was table and bed,
+  Shift for the newborn and sheet for the dead.
+
+  The wind that blew from Beola crest
+  Seemed fire to fetter his wild unrest.
+
+  The rain that beat on his neck and face,
+  A goad to quicken him in his pace.
+
+  But sorrow a step he changed, and his prayer
+  Was still--"Lend us the loan of a halfpenny, sir!"
+
+
+
+
+ON THE TOP-STONE
+
+
+  On the top-stone.
+  A nipping wind blowing.
+  Winter dusk closing in from the south Ards.
+  The moon rising, white and fantastic, over the loch and the town below.
+  I take off my hat, salute her, and descend into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+THE WOMEN AT THEIR DOORS
+
+
+   The babes were asleep in their cradles,
+   And the day's drudge was done,
+   And the women brought their suppers out
+   To eat them in the sun.
+
+  "To-night I will set my needles, Aine,
+   And Eoghan will have stockings to wear:
+   I spun the wool of the horny ewe
+   He bought at the hiring fair. . . .
+
+  "But what is that sound I hear, Nabla?--
+   It is like the cheering of men.
+   God keep our kind from the devil's snare!"
+   And the women answered, "Amen!"
+
+   Then the moon rose over the valley,
+   And the cheering died away,
+   And the women went within their doors
+   At the mouth of the summer day.
+
+   And no men came in at midnight,
+   And no men came in at the dawn,
+   And the women keened by their ashy fires
+   Till their faces were haggard and wan.
+
+   For they knew they had gone to the trysting
+   With pike and musketoon,
+   To fight for their hearths and altars
+   At the rising of the moon!
+
+
+
+
+MY LITTLE DARK LOVE
+
+
+  My little dark love is a wineberry,
+  As swarth and as sweet, I hold;
+  But as the dew on the wineberry
+  Her heart is a-cold.
+
+  I would her love were as warm as the light
+  That lives in her eye of grey,
+  And then my heart would know the peace
+  It dreams in the hills away.
+
+  I would her love were as red as the rose
+  That blows on her cheek of brown,
+  And then my sunless soul would laugh
+  At the woe that weighs it down.
+
+  She dwells in the valley, my little dark love,
+  Where the river sings to the sea,
+  And an ogham-stone sits by her door,
+  And nigh to it hazels three.
+
+  And oft when the purple twilight comes,
+  And the blind bats flit in the air,
+  I wander down from the quiet hills
+  To seek my sweetheart there.
+
+  But she comes never--she loves not me,
+  Nor ever will love, I hold;
+  For tho' my heart is a peat of fire,
+  Her heart is a-cold!
+
+
+
+
+I HEARD A PIPER PIPING
+
+
+  I heard a piper piping
+  The blue hills among--
+  And never did I hear
+  So plaintive a song.
+
+  It seemed but a part
+  Of the hills' melancholy:
+  No piper living there
+  Could ever be jolly!
+
+  And still the piper piped
+  The blue hills among,
+  And all the birds were quiet
+  To listen to his song.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOUDS GO BY AND BY
+
+
+  The clouds go by and by,
+  The heron sings in the blue--
+  And I lie dreaming, dreaming
+  Ever of you.
+
+  The stag on the hill is free,
+  And the wind is blowing sweet--
+  But I lie bound a prisoner
+  At your feet.
+
+
+
+
+DAVY DAW
+
+
+  Woa! are you there my bonny mare?
+  Your whinny seems to say--
+  "By Bealach forge and Creagach fair
+  We'll gallop hard to-day!"
+  You champ your snaffle all to foam,
+  And fleck your counter bright;
+  But now we bid adieu to home
+  Until the fall of night.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, with his early horn,
+      His hunting-crop and bag of corn--
+      His heart's as merry as a mottle-thrush
+      That sings all day in the hawthorn bush.
+
+  Come hither, Bran of ancient seed,
+  And lick your master's hand;
+  I swear no dog of purer breed
+  Is found in all the land.
+  Brave scion of Cuchullain's branch,
+  Well do you, hound, uphold
+  The prowess and the courage staunch
+  That marked your line of old.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, my merry man,
+      I love toast crab in a pewter can.
+      Our tastes are like as like can be--
+      But a measure of ale in the can for me!
+
+  The wind is low and scent is good,
+  And Mada's on the green:
+  He hid his head in Cratla Wood
+  Since early yestere'en.
+  You beat the bush from peep of light,
+  And set the whins afire;
+  And now the tory is in sight,
+  You've got your heart's desire.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a crab well-browned
+      In the smiling flood of a cruiscin drowned.
+      Give me, sirree, my crab and ale,
+      And bog or batter, my heart won't fail!
+
+  The sun is out, and Davy's up,
+  And hounds are on the run:
+  It's hard he'll earn his stirrup-cup
+  Before the day is done!
+  A jolly life we hunters lead
+  Upon the saddle high:
+  We see no devil in the bead,
+  And drain our noggins dry.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw is a huntsman bold;
+      He's more to me than a kingdom's gold.
+      A hind for dinner and a hare to sup--
+      O that's what I get when Davy's up!
+
+  The fox is fast upon the hill,
+  He's wary in the dale;
+  But I will ride to Penny Mill
+  Before I lose his tail.
+  That brush was born to make a cap
+  For gallant Eoin Og;
+  And I will have it, hang-or-hap,
+  As sure as I'm a rogue.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a morning chase,
+      With an Irish blood to make the pace:
+      He's last to check and first to view,
+      And hard to the death he leads his queue.
+
+  Day in we hunt the spinney fox,
+  Day out the rapparee;
+  _His_ cave is in the broken rocks
+  Above the Correi-buidhe.
+  A shameful thing, the ladies say,
+  To hunt your fellow-man;
+  But follow him till hard at bay
+  It's just the ladies can!
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, the brush is won!
+      A good job, sir, our work is done.
+      Whitefoot went lame this side o' the mill,
+      And I'm as dry as an old lime-kiln.
+
+  Red rogue, he'll kill his goose no more:
+  Close work it was, for the light is o'er.
+  Just _close_ work, sir, but the Dub's _close to_,
+  With a can for me and a crab for you!
+
+
+
+
+BLACK SILE OF THE SILVER EYE
+
+
+  As I rode down to Gartan fair
+  I met a girl upon the way:
+  The winter night was on her hair,
+  The summer dawn was in her eye.
+
+  And O, she stepped with such a gait,
+  And bore her round black head so high,
+  And tossed it so, I knew her straight
+  For Sile of the Silver Eye.
+
+  "God save you, Sile, love," says I:
+  "God save you kindly," murmured she--
+  And love was welling in her eye
+  As she dropped me the courtesy.
+
+  The mountain boys upon the road
+  Were at themselves for jealousy
+  When they saw Seamus win the nod
+  From Sile of the Silver Eye.
+
+  We rode together to the fair,
+  We danced together on the green;
+  And, faith, they say a suppler pair
+  Was ne'er before a piper seen.
+
+  Black Sile of the Silver Eye
+  Has been my wife for twenty year,
+  And still her sloe-black head is high,
+  And still her eye is silver clear.
+
+  And, God be praised, we have a girl,
+  As like her as like well can be--
+  The round black head, the roguish curl,
+  The soft tongue and the silver eye.
+
+  God bless the old, God bless the new,
+  And send them stout posterity--
+  Old Sile and young Sile, too--
+  Both "Sile of the Silver Eye!"
+
+
+
+
+A SHEEPDOG BARKS ON THE MOUNTAIN
+
+
+  A sheepdog barks on the mountain,
+  The night is fallen cold;
+  The shepherd blinks at his fire,
+  The sheep are in the fold.
+
+  The moon comes white and quiet
+  Into the winter sky;
+  And nothing walks the valley
+  To-night but you and I.
+
+
+
+
+DEAD OAKLEAVES EVERYWHERE
+
+
+  Dead oakleaves everywhere
+  Under my feet,
+  Filling the forest air
+  With odours sweet.
+
+  Acorns, three, four and five,
+  Falling apace.
+  Thank God I am alive
+  This day of grace!
+
+
+
+
+A NIGHT PRAYER
+
+
+  Pray for me, Seachnal,
+  Pray for me, Mel:
+  Save me from sin
+  And the cold stone of hell!
+
+  Brigid and Ita
+  And Eithne the Red,
+  Spread out your mantles
+  And cover my bed!
+
+  For rann and gospel
+  Have gone from my mind,
+  And devils are walking
+  Abroad in the wind!
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+
+  I am the mountainy singer,
+  And I would sing of the Christ
+  Who followed the paths thro' the mountains
+  To eat at the people's tryst.
+
+  He loved the sun-dark people
+  As the young man loves his bride,
+  And he moved among their thatches,
+  And for them he was crucified.
+
+  And the people loved him, also,
+  More than their houses or lands,
+  For they had known his pity
+  And felt the touch of his hands.
+
+  And they dreamed with him in the mountains,
+  And they walked with him on the sea,
+  And they prayed with him in the garden,
+  And bled with him on the tree.
+
+  Not ever by longing and dreaming
+  May they come to him now,
+  But by the thorns of sorrow
+  That bruised his kingly brow.
+
+
+
+
+THE RAINBOW SPANNING A PLANET SHOWER
+
+
+  The rainbow spanning a planet shower,
+  The sloe in berry, the flax in flower.
+
+  The scholar's satchel, the beggar's staff,
+  The ploughman's whistle, the tinker's laugh.
+
+  The stranded hooker, the breaking wave,
+  The sunrise gilding the carn of Medb.
+
+  The strength of mountains, the swiftness of wind
+  Blowing over the leagues behind.
+
+  The hot lips sealing the spoken word,
+  The song in gentle places heard.
+
+  The wildgoose trumpeting in the blue,
+  The postcar stuck in a drift of snow.
+
+  The bogslide moving, the seaward leap,
+  The cry, the townland whelmed in sleep.
+
+  The sock on the anvil, the thread in the loom,
+  The Host on the altar, the child in the womb.
+
+  The wayside murder, the whispered name,
+  The hanging body, the hidden shame.
+
+  And more--if you but listen and look--
+  In this, my elemental book!
+
+
+
+
+I WILL GO WITH MY FATHER A-PLOUGHING
+
+
+  I will go with my father a-ploughing
+  To the green field by the sea,
+  And the rooks and the crows and the seagulls
+  Will come flocking after me.
+  I will sing to the patient horses
+  With the lark in the white of the air,
+  And my father will sing the plough-song
+  That blesses the cleaving share.
+
+  I will go with my father a-sowing
+  To the red field by the sea,
+  And the rooks and the gulls and the starlings
+  Will come flocking after me.
+  I will sing to the striding sowers
+  With the finch on the greening sloe,
+  And my father will sing the seed-song
+  That only the wise men know.
+
+  I will go with my father a-reaping
+  To the brown field by the sea,
+  And the geese and the crows and the children
+  Will come flocking after me.
+  I will sing to the tanfaced reapers
+  With the wren in the heat of the sun,
+  And my father will sing the scythe-song
+  That joys for the harvest done.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHINING SPACES OF THE SOUTH
+
+
+  The shining spaces of the south,
+  The circle of the year, the sea,
+  The blowing rose, the maiden's mouth,
+  The love, the hate, the ecstasy,
+  The golden wood, the shadowed stream,
+  The dew, the light, the wind, the rain,
+  The man's desire, the woman's dream,
+  The bed embrace, the childing pain,
+  The sound of music heard afar,
+  The breathing grass, the broken sod,
+  The sun, the moon, the twilight star--
+  Do all proclaim the mind of God.
+  Then why should I, who am but clay,
+  Think otherwise, or answer nay?
+
+
+
+
+LIKE A TUFT OF CEANABHAN
+
+
+  Like a tuft of _ceanabhan_
+  Blowing in the wind
+  Is my slender Aine Ban--
+  White and soft and kind.
+
+  Kind her heart is, but her clann's
+  Cold as clay or stone.
+  Would that I had herds and lands
+  To take her for my own!
+
+
+
+
+THE HERB-LEECH
+
+
+  I have gathered _luss_
+  At the wane of the moon,
+  And supped its sap
+  With a yewen spoon.
+  I have sat a spell
+  By the carn of Medb,
+  And smelt the mould
+  Of the red queen's grave.
+  I have dreamed a dearth
+  In the darkened sun,
+  And felt the hand
+  Of the Evil One.
+  I have fathomed war
+  In the comet's tail,
+  And heard the crying
+  Of Gall and Gael.
+  I have seen the spume
+  On the dead priest's lips,
+  And the "holy fire"
+  On the spars of ships;
+  And the shooting stars
+  On Barthelmy's Night,
+  Blanching the dark
+  With ghostly light;
+  And the corpse-candle
+  Of the seer's dream,
+  Bigger in girth
+  Than a weaver's beam;
+  And the shy hearth-fairies
+  About the grate,
+  Blowing the turves
+  To a whiter heat.
+  All things on earth
+  To me are known,
+  For I have the gift
+  Of the Murrain Stone!
+
+
+
+
+WHO BUYS LAND
+
+
+  Who buys land buys many stones,
+  Who buys flesh buys many bones;
+  Who buys eggs buys many shells,
+  Who buys love buys nothing else.
+
+  Love is a burr upon the floor,
+  Love is a thief behind the door;
+  Who loves leman for her breath
+  May quench his fire and cry for death!
+
+  Love is a bridle, love is a load,
+  Love is a thorn upon the road;
+  Love is the fly that flits its hour,
+  Love is the shining venom-flower.
+
+  Love is a net, love is a snare,
+  Love is a bubble blown with air;
+  Love starts hot, and waning cold,
+  Is withered in the grave's mould!
+
+
+
+
+THE POET LOOSED A WINGÈD SONG
+
+
+  The poet loosed a wingèd song
+  Against the hulk of England's wrong.
+  Were poisoned words at his command,
+  'Twould not avail for Ireland.
+
+  The soldier lifted up a sword,
+  And on the hills in battle poured
+  His life-blood like an ebbing sea--
+  And still we pine for liberty.
+
+  The friar spoke his bitter hope,
+  And danced upon the gallows rope.
+  Were he to dance that dance again
+  A hundred times, 'twould be in vain.
+
+  Christ save us! only thou canst save!
+  The nation staggers to the grave.
+  Can genius, valour, faith be given,
+  And win no recompense of heaven?
+
+  No, Christ! by Ireland's martyrs, no!
+  'Twas not for this we suffered so.
+  Die, die again on Calvary tree,
+  If needs be, Christ, to set us free!
+                To set us free!
+
+
+
+
+SIC TRANSIT
+
+
+  I lit my tallow
+  An hour ago,
+  And now it is burning
+  Dark and low.
+
+  The glimmer lengthens
+  And turns about,
+  Sinks in the sconce--
+  Then flickers out!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Mountainy Singer, by Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOUNTAINY SINGER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 38927-8.txt or 38927-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/9/2/38927/
+
+Produced by Jana Srna
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mountainy Singer, by Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
+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 Mountainy Singer
+
+Author: Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
+Release Date: February 18, 2012 [EBook #38927]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOUNTAINY SINGER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jana Srna
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div id="tnote">
+<p class="center"><b>Transcriber&rsquo;s Notes:</b></p>
+
+<p>Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
+as possible, including any inconsistencies in the original.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center page-break">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="488" height="600" alt="" id="coverpage"/>
+</div>
+
+<p id="half-title">THE MOUNTAINY SINGER</p>
+
+<p class="page-break no-indent italic spacing-top">BY THE SAME AUTHOR:</p>
+
+<ul>
+<li>THE GARDEN OF THE BEES</li>
+<li>THE RUSHLIGHT</li>
+<li>THE MAN-CHILD</li>
+<li>THE GILLY OF CHRIST</li>
+</ul>
+
+<h1>THE MOUNTAINY SINGER</h1>
+
+<p id="author">BY SEOSAMH MacCATHMHAOIL</p>
+
+<p class="center">MAUNSEL AND COMPANY, LTD.<br/>
+96 MID. ABBEY STREET, DUBLIN<br/>
+1909</p>
+
+<p class="center">All Rights Reserved</p>
+
+<div class="poetry italic page-break spacing-top">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Dedit pauperibus.</div>
+<div class="line right">Lib. Psalm.</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="center"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_v" title="v"> </a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table id="toc" summary="Contents">
+<tr>
+  <th>&nbsp;</th>
+  <th>PAGE</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_1">I am the Mountainy Singer</a></td>
+  <td class="right">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_2">When Rooks Fly Homeward</a></td>
+  <td class="right">2</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_3">I Spin my Golden Web</a></td>
+  <td class="right">2</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_4">Cherry Valley</a></td>
+  <td class="right">3</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_5">Darkness</a></td>
+  <td class="right">3</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_6">My Fidil is Singing</a></td>
+  <td class="right">4</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_7">The Goat Dealer</a></td>
+  <td class="right">4</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_8">Why Crush the Claret Rose</a></td>
+  <td class="right">5</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_9">Lament of Padraic Mor Mac Cruimin</a></td>
+  <td class="right">6</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_10">To a Town Girl</a></td>
+  <td class="right">8</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_11">A March Moon</a></td>
+  <td class="right">8</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_12">A Thousand Feet Up</a></td>
+  <td class="right">9</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_13">The Dark</a></td>
+  <td class="right">9</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_14">Reynardine</a></td>
+  <td class="right">11</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_15">Snow</a></td>
+  <td class="right">11</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_16">I am the Gilly of Christ</a></td>
+  <td class="right">12</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_17">Go, Ploughman, Plough</a></td>
+  <td class="right">13</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_18">Go, Reaper</a></td>
+  <td class="right">14</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_19">The Good People</a></td>
+  <td class="right">14</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_20">The Storm is Still, the Rain hath Ceased</a></td>
+  <td class="right">15</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_21">Scare-the-Crows</a></td>
+  <td class="right">16</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_22">A Cradle Song</a></td>
+  <td class="right">17</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_23">Twine the Mazes Thro&rsquo; and Thro&rsquo;</a></td>
+  <td class="right">18</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_24">The Fighting-Man</a></td>
+  <td class="right">19</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_25">My Mother has a Wee Red Shoe</a></td>
+  <td class="right">20</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a class="pagenum" name="Page_vi" title="vi"> </a><a href="#Poem_26">By a Wondrous Mystery</a></td>
+  <td class="right">21</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_27">I Gather Three Ears of Corn</a></td>
+  <td class="right">22</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_28">The Tinkers</a></td>
+  <td class="right">23</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_29">As I Came over the Grey, Grey Hills</a></td>
+  <td class="right">24</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_30">A Northern Love-Song</a></td>
+  <td class="right">24</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_31">To the Golden Eagle</a></td>
+  <td class="right">25</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_32">A Prophecy</a></td>
+  <td class="right">26</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_33">I Met a Walking-Man</a></td>
+  <td class="right">27</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_34">The Ninepenny Fidil</a></td>
+  <td class="right">28</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_35">Grasslands are Fair</a></td>
+  <td class="right">29</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_36">Winter Song</a></td>
+  <td class="right">30</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_37">I Follow a Star</a></td>
+  <td class="right">30</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_38">The Silence of Unlaboured Fields</a></td>
+  <td class="right">31</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_39">The Beggar&rsquo;s Wake</a></td>
+  <td class="right">32</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_40">The Besom-Man</a></td>
+  <td class="right">36</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_41">Every Shuiler is Christ</a></td>
+  <td class="right">38</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_42">I Wish and I Wish</a></td>
+  <td class="right">39</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_43">I am the Man-Child</a></td>
+  <td class="right">40</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_44">Fragment</a></td>
+  <td class="right">41</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_45">At the Whitening of the Dawn</a></td>
+  <td class="right">42</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_46">Who are My Friends</a></td>
+  <td class="right">43</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_47">O Glorious Childbearer</a></td>
+  <td class="right">44</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_48">Coronach</a></td>
+  <td class="right">44</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_49">Twilight Fallen</a></td>
+  <td class="right">45</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_50">The Dawn Whiteness</a></td>
+  <td class="right">45</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_51">The Dwarf</a></td>
+  <td class="right">46</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_52">I See all Love in Lowly Things</a></td>
+  <td class="right">47</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_53">&rsquo;Tis Pretty tae be in Baile-Liosan</a></td>
+  <td class="right">48</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_54">Ciaran, the Master of Horses and Lands</a></td>
+  <td class="right">49</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a class="pagenum" name="Page_vii" title="vii"> </a><a href="#Poem_55">Deep Ways and Dripping Boughs</a></td>
+  <td class="right">50</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_56">Night, and I Travelling</a></td>
+  <td class="right">50</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_57">Night-Piece</a></td>
+  <td class="right">51</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_58">At Morning Tide</a></td>
+  <td class="right">51</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_59">The May-Fire</a></td>
+  <td class="right">52</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_60">I Love the Din of Beating Drums</a></td>
+  <td class="right">54</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_61">Three Colts Exercising in a Six-acre</a></td>
+  <td class="right">54</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_62">The Natural</a></td>
+  <td class="right">55</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_63">On the Top-Stone</a></td>
+  <td class="right">55</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_64">The Women at their Doors</a></td>
+  <td class="right">56</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_65">My Little Dark Love</a></td>
+  <td class="right">57</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_66">I Heard a Piper Piping</a></td>
+  <td class="right">58</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_67">The Clouds go By and By</a></td>
+  <td class="right">58</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_68">Davy Daw</a></td>
+  <td class="right">59</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_69">Black Sile of the Silver Eye</a></td>
+  <td class="right">62</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_70">A Sheep-Dog Barks on the Mountain</a></td>
+  <td class="right">63</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_71">Dead Oakleaves Everywhere</a></td>
+  <td class="right">64</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_72">A Night Prayer</a></td>
+  <td class="right">64</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_73">I am the Mountainy Singer</a></td>
+  <td class="right">65</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_74">The Rainbow Spanning a Planet Shower</a></td>
+  <td class="right">66</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_75">I will Go with My Father A-Ploughing</a></td>
+  <td class="right">67</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_76">The Shining Spaces of the South</a></td>
+  <td class="right">68</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_77">Like a Tuft of Ceanabhan</a></td>
+  <td class="right">68</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_78">The Herb-Leech</a></td>
+  <td class="right">69</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_79">Who Buys Land</a></td>
+  <td class="right">70</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_80">The Poet Loosed a Wingèd Song</a></td>
+  <td class="right">71</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td><a href="#Poem_81">Sic Transit</a></td>
+  <td class="right">72</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="italic">This book is made up of a selection from the
+Author&rsquo;s early books, with many new poems added.</p>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_viii" title="viii"> </a>A LINE&rsquo;S A SPEECH</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry italic">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A line&rsquo;s a speech;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">So here&rsquo;s a line<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To say this pedlar&rsquo;s pack<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of mine<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is not a book&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But a journey thro&rsquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Mountainy places,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ever in view<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the sea and the fields,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With the rough wind<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Blowing over the leagues<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Behind!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_1" title="1"> </a><a name="Poem_1">I AM THE MOUNTAINY SINGER</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I am the mountainy singer&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The voice of the peasant&rsquo;s dream,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cry of the wind on the wooded hill,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The leap of the fish in the stream.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Quiet and love I sing&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The carn on the mountain crest,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cailin in her lover&rsquo;s arms,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The child at its mother&rsquo;s breast.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Beauty and peace I sing&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The fire on the open hearth,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cailleach spinning at her wheel,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The plough in the broken earth.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Travail and pain I sing&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The bride on the childing bed,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The dark man labouring at his rhymes,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The ewe in the lambing shed.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Sorrow and death I sing&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The canker come on the corn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The fisher lost in the mountain loch,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cry at the mouth of morn.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">No other life I sing,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For I am sprung of the stock<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That broke the hilly land for bread,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And built the nest in the rock!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_2" title="2"> </a><a name="Poem_2">WHEN ROOKS FLY HOMEWARD</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">When rooks fly homeward<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And shadows fall,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When roses fold<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On the hay-yard wall,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When blind moths flutter<br/></div>
+<div class="line">By door and tree,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Then comes the quiet<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Of Christ to me.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">When stars look out<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On the Children&rsquo;s Path<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And grey mists gather<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On carn and rath,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When night is one<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With the brooding sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Then comes the quiet<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Of Christ to me.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_3">I SPIN MY GOLDEN WEB</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I spin my golden web in the sun:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cherries tremble, the light is done.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A sudden wind sweeps over the bay,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And carries my golden web away!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_3" title="3"> </a><a name="Poem_4">CHERRY VALLEY</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">In Cherry Valley the cherries blow:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The valley paths are white as snow.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And in their time with clusters red<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The scented boughs are crimsonèd.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Even now the moon is looking thro&rsquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The glimmer of the honey dew.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A petal trembles to the grass,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The feet of fairies pass and pass.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">By <em>them</em>, I know, all beauty comes<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To me, a habitan of slums.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I sing no rune, I say no line:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The gift of second sight is mine!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_5">DARKNESS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Darkness.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I stop to watch a star shine in the boghole<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span><br/></div>
+<div class="line">A star no longer, but a silver ribbon of light.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I look at it, and pass on.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_4" title="4"> </a><a name="Poem_6">MY FIDIL IS SINGING</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My fidil is singing<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Into the air;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The wind is stirring,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The moon is fair.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A shadow wanders<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Along the road;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It stops to listen,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And drops its load.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Dreams for a space<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Upon the moon,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Then passes, humming<br/></div>
+<div class="line">My mountain tune.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_7">THE GOAT-DEALER</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Did you see the goat-dealer<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All in his jacket green?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I met him on the rocky road<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Twixt this and Baile-doirin.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A hundred nannies ran before,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And a she-ass behind,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And then the old wanderer himself,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Burnt red with sun and wind.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_5" title="5"> </a><div class="line">He gave me the time-a-day<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And doitered over the hill,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Walloping his gay ashplant<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And shouting his fill.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I think I hear him yet,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Tho&rsquo; it&rsquo;s a giant&rsquo;s cry<br/></div>
+<div class="line">From where I hailed him first,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Standing up to the sky.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Is that Puck Green I see beyond?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It is, and the stir is there.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">By the holy hat, I know then&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He&rsquo;s making for Puck Fair!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_8">WHY CRUSH THE CLARET ROSE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Why crush the claret rose<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That blows<br/></div>
+<div class="line">So rarely on the tree?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wherefore the enmity, dear girl,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Betwixt the rose and thee?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Art thou not fair enough<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With that dark beauty given thee,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That thou must crush the rose<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That blows<br/></div>
+<div class="line">So rarely on the tree!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_6" title="6"> </a><a name="Poem_9">LAMENT OF PADRAIC MOR MAC CRUIMIN OVER HIS SONS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I am Padraic Mor mac Cruimin,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Son of Domhnall of the Shroud,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Piper, like my kind before me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To the household of MacLeod.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Death is in the seed of Cruimin&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All my music is a wail;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Early graves await the poets<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the pipers of the Gael.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Samhain gleans the golden harvests<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Duly in their tide and time,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But my body&rsquo;s fruit is blasted<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Barely past the Bealtein prime.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Cethlenn claims the fairest fighters<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Fitly for her own, her own,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But my seven sons are stricken<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where no battle-pipe is blown.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Flowers of the forest fallen<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On the sliding summer stream&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Light and life and love are with me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Then are vanished into dream.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_7" title="7"> </a><div class="line">Berried branches of the rowan<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Rifled in the wizard wind&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Clan and generation leave me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Lonely on the heath behind.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Who will soothe a father&rsquo;s sorrow<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When his seven sons are gone?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who will watch him in his sleeping?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who will wake him at the dawn?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Seven sons are taken from me<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In the compass of a year;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Every bone is bose within me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All my blood is white with fear.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Seven youths of brawn and beauty<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Moulder in their mountain bed,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Up in storied Inis-Scathach<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where their fathers reaped their bread.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Nevermore upon the mountain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Nevermore in fair or field,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shall ye see the seven champions<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the silver-mantled shield.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I will play the &ldquo;<i>Cumhadh na Cloinne</i>&rdquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wildest of the rowth of tunes<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Gathered by the love of mortal<br/></div>
+<div class="line">From the olden druid runes.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Wail ye! Night is on the water;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wind and wave are roaring loud&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>Caoine</i> for the fallen children<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the piper of MacLeod.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_8" title="8"> </a><a name="Poem_10">TO A TOWN GIRL</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Violet mystery,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ringleted gold,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Whiteness of whiteness,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wherefore so cold?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Silent you sit there&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Spirit and mould&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Darkening the dream<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That must never be told!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_11">A MARCH MOON</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A March moon<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Over the mountain crest,<br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>Ceanabhan</i> blowing:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Her neck and breast.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Arbutus berries<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On the tree head:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Her mouth of passion,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Dewy and red.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Cold as cold<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And hot as hot,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">She loves me .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And she loves me not!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_9" title="9"> </a><a name="Poem_12">A THOUSAND FEET UP</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A thousand feet up: twilight.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Westwards, a clump of firtrees silhouetted against a bank of blue cumulus cloud;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The June afterglow like a sea behind.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The mountain trail, white and clear where human feet have worn it, zigzagging higher and higher till it loses itself in the southern skyline.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A patch of young corn to my right hand, swaying and swaying continuously, tho&rsquo; hardly an air stirs.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A falcon wheeling overhead.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The moon rising.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The damp smell of the night in my nostrils.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">O hills, O hills,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To you I lift mine eyes!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I kneel down and kiss the grass under my feet.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sense of the mystery and infinity of things overwhelms me, annihilates me almost.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I kneel down, and silently worship.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_13">THE DARK</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">This is the dark.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">This is the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">This is the dreamer who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">This is the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_10" title="10"> </a><div class="line">This is the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">This is the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">This is the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">This is the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">This is the rope that swung the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">This is the dark that buried the rope that swung the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">This is the dark, indeed!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_11" title="11"> </a><a name="Poem_14">REYNARDINE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line"><i>If by chance you look for me</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>Perhaps you&rsquo;ll not me find,</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>For I&rsquo;ll be in my castle&mdash;</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>Enquire for Reynardine!</i><br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Sun and dark he courted me&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His eyes were red as wine:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He took me for his leman,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Did my sweet Reynardine.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Sun and dark the gay horn blows,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The beagles run like wind:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">They know not where he harbours,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The fairy Reynardine.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line"><i>If by chance you look for me</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>Perhaps you&rsquo;ll not me find,</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>For I&rsquo;ll be in my castle&mdash;</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line"><i>Enquire for Reynardine!</i><br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_15">SNOW</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Hills that were dark<br/></div>
+<div class="line">At sparing-time last night<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Now in the dawn-ring<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Glimmer cold and white.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_12" title="12"> </a><a name="Poem_16">I AM THE GILLY OF CHRIST</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I am the gilly of Christ,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The mate of Mary&rsquo;s Son;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I run the roads at seeding time,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And when the harvest&rsquo;s done.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I sleep among the hills,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The heather is my bed;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I dip the termon-well for drink,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And pull the sloe for bread.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">No eye has ever seen me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But shepherds hear me pass,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Singing at fall of even<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Along the shadowed grass.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The beetle is my bellman,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The meadow-fire my guide,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The bee and bat my ambling nags<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When I have need to ride.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">All know me only the Stranger,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who sits on the Saxon&rsquo;s height;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He burned the bacach&rsquo;s little house<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On last Saint Brigid&rsquo;s Night.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">He sups off silver dishes,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And drinks in a golden horn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But he will wake a wiser man<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Upon the Judgment Morn!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_13" title="13"> </a><div class="line">I am the gilly of Christ,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The mate of Mary&rsquo;s Son;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I run the roads at seeding time,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And when the harvest&rsquo;s done.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The seed I sow is lucky,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The corn I reap is red,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And whoso sings the Gilly&rsquo;s Rann<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will never cry for bread.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_17">GO, PLOUGHMAN, PLOUGH</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Go, ploughman, plough<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The mearing lands,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The meadow lands,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The mountain lands:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All life is bare<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Beneath your share,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All love is in your lusty hands.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Up, horses, now!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And straight and true<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Let every broken furrow run:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The strength you sweat<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shall blossom yet<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In golden glory to the sun.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_14" title="14"> </a><a name="Poem_18">GO, REAPER</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Go, reaper,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Speed and reap,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Go take the harvest<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the plough:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The wheat is standing<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Broad and deep,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The barley glumes<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Are golden now.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Labour is hard,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But it endures<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Like love:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The land is yours:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Go reap the life<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It gives you now,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">O sunbrowned master<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the plough!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_19">THE GOOD PEOPLE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The millway path looks like a wraith,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The lock is black as ink,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And silently in stream and sky<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The stars begin to blink.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_15" title="15"> </a><div class="line">I see them pass along the grass<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With slow and solemn tread:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Aoibheall, their queen, is in between&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A corpse is at their head!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">They wander on with faces wan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And dirges sad as wind.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I know not, but it may be that<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The dead&rsquo;s of human kind.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_20">THE STORM IS STILL, THE RAIN HATH CEASED</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The storm is still, the rain hath ceased<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To vex the beauty of the east:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A linnet singeth in the wood<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His hermit song of gratitude.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">So shall I sing when life is done<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To greet the glory of the sun;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And cloud and star and stream and sea<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shall dance for very ecstasy!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_16" title="16"> </a><a name="Poem_21">SCARE-THE-CROWS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Twopence a day for scaring crows&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Tho&rsquo; the rain beats and the wind blows!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The scholars think I&rsquo;ve little wit,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But, God! I&rsquo;ve got my share of it.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Why does the gorbing land-shark<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Leave ploughed rigs for the green park?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Where little&rsquo;s to find, and nothing&rsquo;s to eat<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But rabbits&rsquo; droppings and pheasants&rsquo; meat.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">He knows better than come my way<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the mouth and the tail of day.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">For one lick of my hurding wattle<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Would lay him out like a showman&rsquo;s bottle!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And the thoughts that rise in my crazed head<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When the cloud is low and the wind&rsquo;s dead.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Where you see only clay and stones<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I see swords and blanching bones.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_17" title="17"> </a><div class="line">But I&rsquo;ll leave you now&mdash;it&rsquo;s gone six,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the smoke is curling over the ricks.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And it&rsquo;s hardly like that the land-shark<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will trouble the furrows after dark.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_22">A CRADLE-SONG</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Sleep, white love, sleep,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A cedarn cradle holds thee,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And twilight, like a silver-woven coverlid,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Enfolds thee.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Moon and star keep charmèd watch<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Upon thy lying;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Water plovers thro&rsquo; the dusk<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Are tremulously crying.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Sleep, white love mine,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Till day doth shine.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Sleep, white love, sleep,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The daylight wanes, and deeper<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Gathers the blue darkness<br/></div>
+<div class="line">O&rsquo;er the cradle of the sleeper.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Cliodhna&rsquo;s curachs, carmine-oared,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On Loch-da-linn are gleaming;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Blind bats flutter thro&rsquo; the night,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And carrion birds are screaming.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Sleep, white love mine,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Till day doth shine.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_18" title="18"> </a><div class="line">Sleep, white love, sleep,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The holy mothers, Anne and Mary,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Sit high in heaven, dreaming<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On the seven ends of Eire.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Brigid sits beside them,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Spinning lamb-white wool on whorls,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Singing fragrant songs of love<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To little naked boys and girls.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Sleep, white love mine,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Till day doth shine.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_23">TWINE THE MAZES THRO&rsquo; AND THRO&rsquo;</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Twine the mazes thro&rsquo; and thro&rsquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Over beach and margent pale;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Not a bawn appears in view,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Not a sail!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Round about!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In and out!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Thro&rsquo; the stones and sandy bars<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To the music of the stars!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The asteroidal fire that dances<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Nightly in the northern blue,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The brightest of the boreal lances,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Dances not so light as you,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Cliodhna!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Dances not so light as you.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_19" title="19"> </a><a name="Poem_24">THE FIGHTING-MAN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A fighting-man he was,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Guts and soul;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His blood as hot and red<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As that on Cain&rsquo;s hand-towel.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A copper-skinned six-footer,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Hewn out of the rock.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who would stand up against<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His hammer-knock?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Not a sinner&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">No, and not one dared!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Giants showed clean heels<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When his arm was bared.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I&rsquo;ve seen him swing an anvil<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Fifty feet,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Break a bough in two,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And tear a twisted sheet.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And the music of his roar&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Like oaks in thunder cleaving;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Lips foaming red froth,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And flanks heaving.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">God! a goodly man,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A Gael, the last<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of those that stood with Dan<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On Mullach-Maist!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_20" title="20"> </a><a name="Poem_25">MY MOTHER HAS A WEE RED SHOE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My mother has a wee red shoe&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">She bought it off a bacach-man;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And all the neighbours say it&rsquo;s true<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He stole it off a Leath-brogan.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Bacach-man, bacach-man,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Where did you get it?<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Faith now, says he,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">In my leather wallet!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My father has an arrow-head&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He begged it off poor Peig na Blath;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And Mor, the talking-woman, said<br/></div>
+<div class="line">She found it in a fairy rath.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Peig na Blath, Peig na Blath,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Where did you get it?<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Faith now, says she,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">In my wincey jacket!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My brother has a copper pot&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He tryst&rsquo; it wi&rsquo; a shuiler-man;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And gossip says it&rsquo;s like as not<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He truff&rsquo;d it from a Clobhair-ceann.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Shuiler-man, shuiler-man,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Where did you get it?<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Faith now, says he,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">In my breeches&rsquo; pocket!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_21" title="21"> </a><a name="Poem_26">BY A WONDROUS MYSTERY</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">By a wondrous mystery<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Christ of Mary&rsquo;s fair body<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Upon a middle winter&rsquo;s morn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the tides of night and day,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In Ara&rsquo;s holy isle was born.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Mary went upon her knee<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Travailing in ecstasy,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And Brigid, mistress of the birth,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Full reverently and tenderly<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Laid the child upon the earth.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Then the dark-eyed rose did blow,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And rivers leaped from out the snow.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Earth grew lyrical: the grass,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As the light winds chanced to pass&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Than magian music more profound&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Murmured in a maze of sound.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">White incense rose upon the hills<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As from a thousand thuribles,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And in the east a seven-rayed star<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Proclaimed the news to near and far.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The shepherd danced, the gilly ran,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The boatman left his curachan;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The king came riding on the wind<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To offer gifts of coin and kind;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The druid dropped his ogham wand,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And said, &ldquo;Another day&rsquo;s at hand,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A newer dawn is in the sky:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I put my withered sapling by.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The druid Christ has taken breath<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To sing the runes of life and death.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_22" title="22"> </a><a name="Poem_27">I GATHER THREE EARS OF CORN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I gather three ears of corn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the Black Earl from over the sea<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Sails across in his silver ships,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And takes two out of the three.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I might build a house on the hill<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And a barn of the speckly stone,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And tell my little stocking of gold,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">If the Earl would let me alone.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">But he has no thought for me&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Only the thought of his share,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the softness of the linsey shifts<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His lazy daughters wear.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">There is a God in heaven,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And angels, score on score,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who will not see my hearthstone cold<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Because I&rsquo;m crazed and poor.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My childer have my blood,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And when they get their beards<br/></div>
+<div class="line">They will not be content to run<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As gillies to their herds!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_23" title="23"> </a><div class="line">The day will come, maybe,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When we can have our own,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the Black Earl will come to us<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Begging the bacach&rsquo;s bone!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_28">THE TINKERS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;One <i>ciarog</i> knows another <i>ciarog</i>,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And why shouldn&rsquo;t I know you, you rogue?&rdquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&ldquo;They say a stroller will never pair<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Except with one of his kind and care .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">So talked two tinkers prone in the shough&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And then, as the fun got a trifle rough,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">They flitted: he with his corn-straw bass,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">She with her load of tin and brass:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As mad a match as you would see<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In a twelvemonth&rsquo;s ride thro&rsquo; Christendie.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He roared&mdash;they both were drunk as hell:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">She danced, and danced it mighty well!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I could have eyed them longer, but<br/></div>
+<div class="line">They staggered for the Quarry Cut:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That half-perch seemed to trouble them more<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Than all the leagues they&rsquo;d tramped before.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Some&rsquo;ll drink at the fair the morrow,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And some&rsquo;ll sup with the spoon of sorrow;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But whether <em>they</em>&rsquo;ll get as far as Droichid<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The night&mdash;well, who knows that but God?<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_24" title="24"> </a><a name="Poem_29">AS I CAME OVER THE GREY, GREY HILLS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">As I came over the grey, grey hills<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And over the grey, grey water,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I saw the gilly leading on,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the white Christ following after.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Where and where does the gilly lead?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And where is the white Christ faring?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">They&rsquo;ve travelled the four grey sounds of Orc,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the four grey seas of Eirinn.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The moon it set and the wind&rsquo;s away,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the song in the grass is dying,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And a silver cloud on the silent sea<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Like a shrouding sheet is lying.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">But Christ and the gilly will follow on<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Till the ring in the east is showing,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the awny corn is red on the hills,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the golden light is glowing!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_30">A NORTHERN LOVE-SONG</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Brigidin Ban of the lint-white locks,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">What was it gave you that flaxen hair,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Long as the summer heath in the rocks?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">What was it gave you those eyes of fire,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Lip so waxen and cheek so wan?<br/></div>
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_25" title="25"> </a><div class="line">Tell me, tell me, Brigidin Ban,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Little white bride of my heart&rsquo;s desire.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Was it the Good People stole you away,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Little white changeling, Brigidin Ban?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Carried you off in the ring of the dawn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Laid like a queen on her purple car,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Carried you back &rsquo;twixt the night and the day;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Gave you that fortune of flaxen hair,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Gave you those eyes of wandering fire,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Lit at the wheel of the southern star;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Gave you that look so far away,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Lip so waxen and cheek so wan?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Tell me, tell me, Brigidin Ban,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Little white bride of my heart&rsquo;s desire.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_31">TO THE GOLDEN EAGLE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Wanderer of the mountain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Winger of the blue,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">From this stormy rock<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I send my love to you.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Take me for your lover,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Dark and fierce and true&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wanderer of the mountain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Winger of the blue!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_26" title="26"> </a><a name="Poem_32">A PROPHECY</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The loins of the Galldacht<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Shall wither like grass&rdquo;&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Strange words I heard said<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">At the Fair of Dun-eas.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;A bard shall be born<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Of the seed of the folk,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">To break with his singing<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">The bond and the yoke.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;A sword, white as ashes,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Shall fall from the sky,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">To rise, red as blood,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">On the charge and the cry.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;Stark pipers shall blow,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Stout drummers shall beat,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the shout of the north<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Shall be heard in the street.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The strong shall go down,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the weak shall prevail,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And a glory shall sit<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">On the sign of the Gaodhal.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_27" title="27"> </a><div class="line">&ldquo;Then Emer shall come<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">In good time by her own,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And a man of the people<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Shall speak from the throne.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent1">Strange words I heard said<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">At the Fair of Dun-eas&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The Gaodhaldacht shall live,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">The Galldacht shall pass!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_33">I MET A WALKING-MAN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I met a walking-man;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His head was old and grey.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I gave him what I had<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To crutch him on his way.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The man was Mary&rsquo;s Son, I&rsquo;ll swear;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A glory trembled in his hair!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And since that blessed day<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I&rsquo;ve never known the pinch:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I plough a broad townland,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And dig a river-inch;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And on my hearth the fire is bright<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For all that walk by day or night.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_28" title="28"> </a><a name="Poem_34">THE NINEPENNY FIDIL</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My father and mother were Irish,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I am Irish, too;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And it is Irish, too.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I&rsquo;m up in the morning early<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To meet the dawn of day,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And to the lintwhite&rsquo;s piping<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The many&rsquo;s the tune I play.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">One pleasant eve in June time<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I met a lochrie-man:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His face and hands were weazen,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His height was not a span.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He boor&rsquo;d me for my fidil&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&ldquo;You know,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;like you,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">My father and mother were Irish,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I am Irish, too!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">He took my wee red fidil,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And such a tune he turned&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The Glaise in it whispered,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The Lionan in it m&rsquo;urned.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Says he, &ldquo;My lad, you&rsquo;re lucky&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I wish t&rsquo; I was like you:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">You&rsquo;re lucky in your birth-star,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And in your fidil, too!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_29" title="29"> </a><div class="line">He gave me back my fidil,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">My fidil-stick, also,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And stepping like a mayboy,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He jumped the Leargaidh Knowe.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I never saw him after,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Nor met his gentle kind;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But, whiles, I think I hear him<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A-wheening in the wind!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My father and mother were Irish,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I am Irish, too:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And it is Irish, too.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I&rsquo;m up in the morning early<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To meet the dawn of day,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And to the lintwhite&rsquo;s piping<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The many&rsquo;s the tune I play.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_35">GRASSLANDS ARE FAIR</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Grasslands are fair,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ploughlands are rare.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Grasslands are lonely,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ploughlands are comely.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Grasslands breed cattle,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ploughlands feed people.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Grasslands are not wrought,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ploughlands swell with thought.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_30" title="30"> </a><a name="Poem_36">WINTER SONG</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Twould skin a fairy<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It is so airy,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the snow it nips so cold:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shepherd and squire<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Sit by the fire,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sheep are in the fold.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">You have your wish&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A reeking dish,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And rubble walls about;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">So pity the poor<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That have no door<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To keep the winter out!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_37">I FOLLOW A STAR</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I follow a star<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Burning deep in the blue,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A sign on the hills<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Lit for me and for you!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Moon-red is the star,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Halo-ringed like a rood,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Christ&rsquo;s heart in its heart set,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Streaming with blood.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_31" title="31"> </a><div class="line">Follow the gilly<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Beyond to the west:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He leads where the Christ lies<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On Mary&rsquo;s white breast.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">King, priest and prophet&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A child, and no more&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Adonai the Maker!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Come, let us adore.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_38">THE SILENCE OF UNLABOURED FIELDS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The silence of unlaboured fields<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Lies like a judgment on the air:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A human voice is never heard:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sighing grass is everywhere&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sighing grass, the shadowed sky,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cattle crying wearily!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Where are the lowland people gone?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where are the sun-dark faces now?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The love that kept the quiet hearth,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The strength that held the speeding plough?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Grasslands and lowing herds are good,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But better human flesh and blood!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_32" title="32"> </a><a name="Poem_39">THE BEGGAR&rsquo;S WAKE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I watched at a beggar&rsquo;s wake<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In the hills of Bearna-barr,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the old men were telling stories<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of Troy and the Trojan war.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And a flickering fire of bog-deal<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Burned on the open hearth,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the night-wind roared in the chimney,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And darkness was over the earth.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And Tearlach Ban MacGiolla,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The piper of Gort, was there,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And he sat and he dreamed apart<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In the arms of a sugan chair.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And sudden he woke from his dream<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Like a dream-frightened child,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And his lips were pale and trembling,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And his eyes were wild.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And he stood straight up, and he cried,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With a wave of his withered hand,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The days of the grasping stranger<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shall be few in the land!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_33" title="33"> </a><div class="line">&ldquo;The scrip of his doom is written,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The thread of his shroud is spun;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The net of his strength is broken,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The tide of his life is run.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Then he sank to his seat like a stone,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the watchers stared aghast,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And they crossed themselves for fear<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As the coffin cart went past.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;At the battle of Gleann-muic-duibh<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The fate the poets foretold<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shall fall on the neck of the stranger,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And redden the plashy mould.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The bagmen carry the story<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The circuit of Ireland round,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And they sing it at fair and hurling<br/></div>
+<div class="line">From Edair to Acaill Sound.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;And the folk repeat it over<br/></div>
+<div class="line">About the winter fires,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Till the heart of each one listening<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is burning with fierce desires.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_34" title="34"> </a><div class="line">&ldquo;In the Glen of the Bristleless Boar<br/></div>
+<div class="line">They say the battle shall be,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where Breiffne&rsquo;s iron mountains<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Look on the Western sea.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;In the Glen of the Pig of Diarmad,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On Gulban&rsquo;s hither side,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The battle shall be broken<br/></div>
+<div class="line">About the Samhain tide.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;Forth from the ancient hills,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With war-cries strident and loud,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The people shall march at daybreak,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Massed in a clamorous crowd.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;War-pipes shall scream and cry,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And battle-banners shall wave,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And every stone on Gulban<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shall mark a hero&rsquo;s grave.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The horses shall wade to their houghs<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In rivers of smoking blood,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Charging thro&rsquo; heaps of corpses<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Scattered in whinny and wood.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The girths shall rot from their bellies<br/></div>
+<div class="line">After the battle is done,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For lack of a hand to undo them<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And hide them out of the sun.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_35" title="35"> </a><div class="line">&ldquo;It shall not be the battle<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the folk and the Sidhe<br/></div>
+<div class="line">At the rape of a bride from her bed<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Or a babe from its mother&rsquo;s knee.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;It shall not be the battle<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the white hosts flying<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the shrieking devils of hell<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For a priest at the point of dying.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;It shall not be the battle<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the sun and the leaves,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the winter and summer,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the storm and the sheaves.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;But a battle to doom and death<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the Gael and the Gall,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the sword of light<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the shield of darkness and thrall.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;And the Gael shall have the mastery<br/></div>
+<div class="line">After a month of days,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the lakes of the west shall cry,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the hills of the north shall blaze.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;And the neck of the fair-haired Gall<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shall be as a stool for the feet<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of Ciaran, chief of the Gael,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Sitting in Emer&rsquo;s seat!&rdquo;&mdash;<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_36" title="36"> </a><div class="line">At this MacGiolla fainted,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Tearing his yellow hair,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the young men cursed the stranger,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the old men mouthed a prayer.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">For they knew the day would come,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As sure as the piper said,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When many loves would be parted,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And many graves would be red.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And the wake broke up in tumult,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the women were left alone,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Keening over the beggar<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That died at Gobnat&rsquo;s Stone.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_40">THE BESOM-MAN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Did you see Paidin,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Paidin, the besom-man,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Last night as you came by<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Over the mountain?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A barth of new heather<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He bore on his shoulder,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And a bundle of whitlow-grass<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Under his oxter.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_37" title="37"> </a><div class="line">I spied him as he passed<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Beyond the carn head,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But no eye saw him<br/></div>
+<div class="line">At the hill foot after.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">What has come over him?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The women are saying.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">What can have crossed<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Paidin, the besom-man?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The bogholes he knew<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As the curlews know them,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the rabbits&rsquo; pads,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the derelict quarries.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">He was humming a tune&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The &ldquo;Enchanted Valley&rdquo;&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As he passed me westward<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Beyond the carn.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I stood and I listened,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For his singing was strange:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It rang in my ears<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The long night after.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">What has come over<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Paidin, the besom-man?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">What can have crossed him?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The women keep saying.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_38" title="38"> </a><div class="line">They talk of the fairies&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And, God forgive me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Paidin knew <em>them</em><br/></div>
+<div class="line">Like his prayers!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Will you fetch word<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Up to the cross-roads<br/></div>
+<div class="line">If you see track of him,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Living or dead?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The boys are loafing<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Without game or caper;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the dark piper<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is gone home with the birds.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_41">EVERY SHUILER IS CHRIST</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Every shuiler is Christ,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Then be not hard or cold:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The bit that goes for Christ<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will come a hundred-fold.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The ear upon your corn<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will burst before its time;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Your roots will yield a crop<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Without manure or lime.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_39" title="39"> </a><div class="line">And every sup you give<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To crutch him on his way<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will fill your churn with milk,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And choke your barn with hay.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Then when the shuiler begs,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Be neither hard nor cold;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The share that goes for Christ<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will come a hundred-fold.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_42">I WISH AND I WISH</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I wish and I wish<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I wish I were<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A golden bee<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In the blue of the air,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Winging my way<br/></div>
+<div class="line">At the mouth of day<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To the honey marges<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of Loch-ciuin-ban;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Or a little green drake,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Or a silver swan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Floating upon<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The stream of Aili,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I to be swimming<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Gaily, gaily!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_40" title="40"> </a><a name="Poem_43">I AM THE MAN-CHILD</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I am the man-child. From a virgin womb,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Begot among the hills of virgin loins,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The generation of a hundred kings,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I come. I am the man-child glorious,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The love-son of the second birth foretold<br/></div>
+<div class="line">By western bards, the fruit of form and strength<br/></div>
+<div class="line">By nature&rsquo;s prophylactic forethought joined<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In marriage with their kind, the crown, the peak,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The summit of the scheme of things, the pride<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And glory of the hand of God.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent34">Behold!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where in the spaces of the morning world<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sunrise shines my harbinger, the hills<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Leap up, the young winds sing, the rivers dance,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The leaving forests laugh, the eagles scream;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For I am one with them, a mate, a brother,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Bound by nature to the human soul<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That thro&rsquo; the accidents of nature runs.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And wherefore do they leap and laugh and sing,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And dance like vestals on a holyday?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Because their hearts are glad, and mænad-like,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">They fain would share the frenzied cup they drink<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With me, the man-child glorious.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent34">I am he,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Even he, the master-mould, the paragon!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Behold me in my nonage, child and man:<br/></div>
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_41" title="41"> </a><div class="line">The ripest grape on beauty&rsquo;s procreant vine,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The reddest apple of ingathering:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Perfect in form, of peerless strength, and free<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As Caoilte when he roamed the primal hills<br/></div>
+<div class="line">(Those &ldquo;wildernesses rich with liberty&rdquo;),<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A hero that the shocks of chance might strike,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But never tame, a giant druid-ringed,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A god-like savage of the golden days<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ere service shackled action: free itself<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As Oisin when he strayed in Doire-cairn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His hand upon the mountain top, his feet<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Fixt in the flowing sea, his holy head<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Crowned by a flight of birds, acclaiming him<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The singer of the dawn.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_44">FRAGMENT</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I stand upon the summit now:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The falcon, flying from the heath,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Trails darkly o&rsquo;er the mountain brow<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And drops into the gloom beneath.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Night falls, and with it comes the wind<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That blew on Fionn time out of mind,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When weary of love-feasts and wars<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He left his comrades all behind<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To dream upon the quiet stars.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Here on the lonely mountain height<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is ecstasy and living light&mdash;<br/></div>
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_42" title="42"> </a><div class="line">The living inner light that burns<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With magic caught from those white urns<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That wander thro&rsquo; the trackless blue<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Forever, touching those they know<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With beauty, and the things that come<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of beauty. Earth lies at my feet,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A dumb, vast shadow, vast as dumb.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_45">AT THE WHITENING OF THE DAWN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">At the whitening of the dawn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As I came o&rsquo;er the windy water,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I saw the salmon-fisher&rsquo;s daughter,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Nuala ni Cholumain.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Nuala ni Cholumain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Nuala ni Cholumain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Palest lily of the dawn<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Is Nuala ni Cholumain.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">In the dark of evendown<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I went o&rsquo;er the quiet water,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Dreaming of the fisher&rsquo;s daughter<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And her bothy in the town.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">And I made this simple rann<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Ere the whitening of the dawn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Singing to the beauty wan<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Of Nuala ni Cholumain.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_43" title="43"> </a><a name="Poem_46">WHO ARE MY FRIENDS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Who are my friends,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Faithful and true?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who but the stars<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That burn in the blue.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Who but the sun<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That sinketh so red,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who but the clay<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That giveth me bread.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Who but the hills,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who but the sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who but the flowers<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That fold on the tree.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Who but the moths<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That flutter and pass,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who but the lambs<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That cry in the grass.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Who but the darkness,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who but the rain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who but the grave, the grave&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All else are vain!<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">All else are vain!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_44" title="44"> </a><a name="Poem_47">O GLORIOUS CHILDBEARER</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">O glorious childbearer,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">O secret womb,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">O gilded bridechamber, from which hath come the sightly Bridegroom forth,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">O amber veil,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Thou sittest in heaven, the white love of the Gael.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Thy head is crowned with stars, thy radiant hair<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shines like a river thro&rsquo; the twilight air;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Thou walkest by trodden ways and trackless seas,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Immaculate of man&rsquo;s infirmities.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_48">CORONACH</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Come, pipes, sound<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A crooning coronach round,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Till hill and hollow glen and shadowed lake o&rsquo;erflow<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With welling music of our woe.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Beat, beat, ye muffled drums, ye drones and chanters wail,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With heartbreak of the baffled, battle-broken Gael.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The clay is deep on Ireland&rsquo;s breast:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Her proud and bleeding heart is laid at last to rest .&nbsp;.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">To rest .&nbsp;. to rest!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_45" title="45"> </a><a name="Poem_49">TWILIGHT FALLEN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Twilight fallen white and cold,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Child in cradle, lamb in fold;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Glimmering thro&rsquo; the ghostly trees,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Gemini and Pleiades.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Wounds of Eloim,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Weep on me!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Black-winged vampires flitting by,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Curlews crying in the sky;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Grey mists wreathing from the ground,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wrapping rath and burial mound.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Wounds of Eloim,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Weep on me!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Heard, like some sad Gaelic strain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ocean&rsquo;s ancient voice in pain;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Darkness folding hill and wood,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Sorrow drinking at my blood.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Wounds of Eloim,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent6">Weep on me!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_50">THE DAWN WHITENESS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The dawn whiteness.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A bank of slate-grey cloud lying heavily over it.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The moon, like a hunted thing, dropping into the cloud.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_46" title="46"> </a><a name="Poem_51">THE DWARF</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Look at him now, the son,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the churchyard twist in his foot,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Standing there by his mother&rsquo;s door,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As if he had taken root!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">She crossed a grave, they say,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On a black day in spring,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And bore him in the seventh month&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A poor, misshapen thing.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Kneeling down in the dark<br/></div>
+<div class="line">She travailed without a cry,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And gave him the mothering kiss<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Between the earth and the sky.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">He licks cuckoo-spittle, they say,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And eats the dung of the roads,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Mocking the journeymen<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As they pass by with their loads.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Look at his little face&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As grey as wool is grey&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the cast in his green eye,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">So wild and far away.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_47" title="47"> </a><div class="line">Does he see Magh-meala?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is his breath human breath?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Are his thoughts of the hidden things<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Untouched by time and death?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Hanging there by the half-door,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Dangling his devil&rsquo;s foot,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Stock-still on the threshold,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As if he had taken root!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_52">I SEE ALL LOVE IN LOWLY THINGS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I see all love in lowly things,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">No less than in the lusts of kings:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All beauty, shape and comeliness,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All valour, strength and gentleness,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All genius, wit and holiness.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Out of corruption comes the flower,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The corn is kindred with the clay;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The plough-hand is a hand of power,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Nobler than gold, brighter than day.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Then let the leper lift his head,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cripple dance, the captive sing,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The beggar reap and eat his bread&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He is no baser than a king!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_48" title="48"> </a><a name="Poem_53">&rsquo;TIS PRETTY TAE BE IN BAILE-LIOSAN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Tis pretty tae be in Baile-liosan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Tis pretty tae be in green Magh-luan;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Beeking under the eaves in June.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cummers are out wi&rsquo; their knitting and spinning,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa&rsquo;,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And o&rsquo;er the white road the clachan caddies<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Play at their marlies and goaling-ba&rsquo;.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">O, fair are the fields o&rsquo; Baile-liosan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And fair are the faes o&rsquo; green Magh-luan;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But fairer the flowers o&rsquo; Newtownbreda,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wet wi&rsquo; dew in the eves o&rsquo; June.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Tis pleasant tae saunter the clachan thoro&rsquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When day sinks mellow o&rsquo;er Dubhais hill,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And feel their fragrance sae softly breathing<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Frae croft and causey and window-sill.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">O, brave are the haughs o&rsquo; Baile-liosan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And brave are the halds o&rsquo; green Magh-luan;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But braver the hames o&rsquo; Newtownbreda,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Twined about wi&rsquo; the pinks o&rsquo; June.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And just as the face is sae kindly withouten,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The heart within is as guid as gold&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wi&rsquo; new fair ballants and merry music,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And cracks cam&rsquo; down frae the days of old.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_49" title="49"> </a><div class="line">&rsquo;Tis pretty tae be in Baile-liosan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Tis pretty tae be in green Magh-luan;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Beeking under the eaves in June.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cummers are out wi&rsquo; their knitting and spinning,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa&rsquo;,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And o&rsquo;er the white road the clachan caddies<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Play at their marlies and goaling-ba&rsquo;.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_54">CIARAN, THE MASTER OF HORSES AND LANDS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Once had no more than the horn on his hands.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">But Ciaran is rich now, and Ciaran is great,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And rides with the air of a squire of estate.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">O Christ! and to see the man up on the back<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of a thoroughbred stallion, a bay or a black!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">There&rsquo;s not a horsebreeder from Banna to Laoi<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Can handle the snaffle so pretty as he!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And Ciaran, for all, has the wit of a child,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A heart just as soft, and an eye just as mild.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">No maker of ballads puts curse at his door:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He handsels the singer, and harbours the poor.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">For Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Once had no more than the horn on his hands.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_50" title="50"> </a><a name="Poem_55">DEEP WAYS AND DRIPPING BOUGHS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Deep ways and dripping boughs,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The fog falling drearily;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Cowherds calling on their cows,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I crying wearily,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Wearily, wearily, out-a-door,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Houseless, hearthless, coatless, kindless,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Poorest of the wandering poor.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I am the beggar Christ&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Christ that calmed the castling flood!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Cross and thorn have not sufficed<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To punish me as you would;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But out-a-door in wind and rain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Houseless, hearthless, coatless, kindless,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">You keep me wandering in pain.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_56">NIGHT, AND I TRAVELLING</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Night, and I travelling.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">An open door by the wayside,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Throwing out a shaft of warm yellow light.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A whiff of peat-smoke;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A gleam of delf on the dresser within;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A woman&rsquo;s voice crooning, as if to a child.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I pass on into the darkness.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_51" title="51"> </a><a name="Poem_57">NIGHT-PIECE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Fill me, O stars,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As with an olden tune.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Look thro&rsquo; your cloudy bars,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">O summer moon;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Look thro&rsquo;, and drench in silver light<br/></div>
+<div class="line">My soul this night.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">O brief, enchanted dream<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of sea and sky,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of ploughland, meadow, stream,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And twilight loth to die,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of fire and dew&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">My soul is one with you!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_58">AT MORNING TIDE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">At morning tide,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Upon the hill of Sliabh-na-mBan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I saw the dead Christ glorified!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His body, like the risen sun,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Was all too bright to look upon:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The blue air burned<br/></div>
+<div class="line">About him: in his side<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And hands and feet there shone<br/></div>
+<div class="line">(Thro&rsquo; stabs and gashes gaping wide)<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The golden glory of his blood:<br/></div>
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_52" title="52"> </a><div class="line">The gilly stood<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Upon his right hand: at his feet<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The fishers, Peter, James and John,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Knelt worshipping<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With outstretched arms, and eyes<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To heaven turned:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And Maria, his mother sweet,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">(The partner of his mysteries),<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And Magdalen and Salome<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Came thro&rsquo; the doorway of the day<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Behind him, weeping.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Then a cloud came o&rsquo;er<br/></div>
+<div class="line">My senses, and I saw and heard no more!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_59">THE MAY-FIRE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Come away, O Maire Ban,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Come away, come away<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where the heads of <i>ceanabhan</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line">Tremble in the twilight air,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the rushes nod and sway,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And no other sound is heard<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But the swaying of the rushes,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the shouts from Croc-an-air,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the singing of the fidils,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the laughing of the dancers<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Round about the yellow fire,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the scream of the water-bird.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_53" title="53"> </a><div class="line">Come away, O life of me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">O bone of me, O blood of me&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Feilim has a tale to tell:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He would own his love for thee,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Smitten first at Mura&rsquo;s well,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Bitten at the Lammas pattern,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">By the blessed Mura&rsquo;s well.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He would tell thee, Maire Ban,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">How his pulses leap and thrill<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Quicker than the old men&rsquo;s fidils,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Singing out from yonder hill.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Come away, O heart&rsquo;s desire,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">From the ruddy-featured circle,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">From the story-telling circle,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">By the wreathing Bealtein fire.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Come away, come away,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Come away, O Maire Ban,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where the heads of <i>ceanabhan</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line">Tremble in the twilight air,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the voice of love is heard<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Whispering o&rsquo;er the bending rushes<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Like a hidden, holy bird.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Come away, O Maire Ban&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Feilim&rsquo;s face is fairy-wan,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Feilim&rsquo;s heart is sick and pale,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Languishing for love of thee.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_54" title="54"> </a><a name="Poem_60">I LOVE THE DIN OF BEATING DRUMS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I love the din of beating drums,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The bellowing pipe, the shrieking fife:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The discord and the dissonance is my blood, my breath, my life!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The discord and the dissonance is my life!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Away with flutes and dancing lutes&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Such music likes but lovers&rsquo; ears:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Give me the beating battledrum,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The gunpeal and the cheers!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The bellowing pipe and battledrum,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The gunpeal and the cheers!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_61">THREE COLTS EXERCISING IN A SIX-ACRE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Three colts exercising in a six-acre,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A hilly sweep of unfenced grass over the road.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">What a picture they make against the skyline!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Necks stretched, hocks moving royally, tails flying;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Farm-lads up, and they crouching low on their withers.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I have a journey to go&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A lawyer to see, and a paper to sign in the Tontine&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But I slacken my pace to watch them.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_55" title="55"> </a><a name="Poem_62">THE NATURAL</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;Lend us the loan of a halfpenny, sir!&rdquo;&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And he passed with his splendid nose in the air.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A gaunt, grey carcase of skin and bones,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As cold as the river, as hard as the stones.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">To him the highway was table and bed,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Shift for the newborn and sheet for the dead.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The wind that blew from Beola crest<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Seemed fire to fetter his wild unrest.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The rain that beat on his neck and face,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A goad to quicken him in his pace.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">But sorrow a step he changed, and his prayer<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Was still&mdash;&ldquo;Lend us the loan of a halfpenny, sir!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_63">ON THE TOP-STONE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">On the top-stone.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A nipping wind blowing.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Winter dusk closing in from the south Ards.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The moon rising, white and fantastic, over the loch and the town below.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I take off my hat, salute her, and descend into the darkness.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_56" title="56"> </a><a name="Poem_64">THE WOMEN AT THEIR DOORS</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent1">The babes were asleep in their cradles,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the day&rsquo;s drudge was done,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the women brought their suppers out<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">To eat them in the sun.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;To-night I will set my needles, Aine,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And Eoghan will have stockings to wear:<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">I spun the wool of the horny ewe<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">He bought at the hiring fair.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;But what is that sound I hear, Nabla?&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">It is like the cheering of men.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">God keep our kind from the devil&rsquo;s snare!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the women answered, &ldquo;Amen!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent1">Then the moon rose over the valley,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the cheering died away,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the women went within their doors<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">At the mouth of the summer day.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent1">And no men came in at midnight,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And no men came in at the dawn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And the women keened by their ashy fires<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Till their faces were haggard and wan.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent1">For they knew they had gone to the trysting<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">With pike and musketoon,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">To fight for their hearths and altars<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">At the rising of the moon!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_57" title="57"> </a><a name="Poem_65">MY LITTLE DARK LOVE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">My little dark love is a wineberry,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As swarth and as sweet, I hold;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But as the dew on the wineberry<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Her heart is a-cold.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I would her love were as warm as the light<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That lives in her eye of grey,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And then my heart would know the peace<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It dreams in the hills away.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I would her love were as red as the rose<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That blows on her cheek of brown,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And then my sunless soul would laugh<br/></div>
+<div class="line">At the woe that weighs it down.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">She dwells in the valley, my little dark love,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Where the river sings to the sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And an ogham-stone sits by her door,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And nigh to it hazels three.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And oft when the purple twilight comes,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the blind bats flit in the air,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I wander down from the quiet hills<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To seek my sweetheart there.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">But she comes never&mdash;she loves not me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Nor ever will love, I hold;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For tho&rsquo; my heart is a peat of fire,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Her heart is a-cold!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_58" title="58"> </a><a name="Poem_66">I HEARD A PIPER PIPING</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I heard a piper piping<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The blue hills among&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And never did I hear<br/></div>
+<div class="line">So plaintive a song.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">It seemed but a part<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the hills&rsquo; melancholy:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">No piper living there<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Could ever be jolly!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And still the piper piped<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The blue hills among,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And all the birds were quiet<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To listen to his song.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_67">THE CLOUDS GO BY AND BY</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The clouds go by and by,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The heron sings in the blue&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I lie dreaming, dreaming<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Ever of you.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The stag on the hill is free,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the wind is blowing sweet&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But I lie bound a prisoner<br/></div>
+<div class="line">At your feet.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_59" title="59"> </a><a name="Poem_68">DAVY DAW</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Woa! are you there my bonny mare?<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Your whinny seems to say&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&ldquo;By Bealach forge and Creagach fair<br/></div>
+<div class="line">We&rsquo;ll gallop hard to-day!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">You champ your snaffle all to foam,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And fleck your counter bright;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But now we bid adieu to home<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Until the fall of night.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Davy Daw, Davy Daw, with his early horn,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">His hunting-crop and bag of corn&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">His heart&rsquo;s as merry as a mottle-thrush<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">That sings all day in the hawthorn bush.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Come hither, Bran of ancient seed,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And lick your master&rsquo;s hand;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I swear no dog of purer breed<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is found in all the land.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Brave scion of Cuchullain&rsquo;s branch,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Well do you, hound, uphold<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The prowess and the courage staunch<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That marked your line of old.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Davy Daw, Davy Daw, my merry man,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">I love toast crab in a pewter can.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Our tastes are like as like can be&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">But a measure of ale in the can for me!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_60" title="60"> </a><div class="line">The wind is low and scent is good,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And Mada&rsquo;s on the green:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He hid his head in Cratla Wood<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Since early yestere&rsquo;en.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">You beat the bush from peep of light,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And set the whins afire;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And now the tory is in sight,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">You&rsquo;ve got your heart&rsquo;s desire.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a crab well-browned<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">In the smiling flood of a cruiscin drowned.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Give me, sirree, my crab and ale,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">And bog or batter, my heart won&rsquo;t fail!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The sun is out, and Davy&rsquo;s up,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And hounds are on the run:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It&rsquo;s hard he&rsquo;ll earn his stirrup-cup<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Before the day is done!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A jolly life we hunters lead<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Upon the saddle high:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">We see no devil in the bead,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And drain our noggins dry.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Davy Daw, Davy Daw is a huntsman bold;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">He&rsquo;s more to me than a kingdom&rsquo;s gold.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">A hind for dinner and a hare to sup&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">O that&rsquo;s what I get when Davy&rsquo;s up!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_61" title="61"> </a><div class="line">The fox is fast upon the hill,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">He&rsquo;s wary in the dale;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But I will ride to Penny Mill<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Before I lose his tail.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That brush was born to make a cap<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For gallant Eoin Og;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I will have it, hang-or-hap,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As sure as I&rsquo;m a rogue.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a morning chase,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">With an Irish blood to make the pace:<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">He&rsquo;s last to check and first to view,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">And hard to the death he leads his queue.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Day in we hunt the spinney fox,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Day out the rapparee;<br/></div>
+<div class="line"><em>His</em> cave is in the broken rocks<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Above the Correi-buidhe.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A shameful thing, the ladies say,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To hunt your fellow-man;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But follow him till hard at bay<br/></div>
+<div class="line">It&rsquo;s just the ladies can!<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Davy Daw, Davy Daw, the brush is won!<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">A good job, sir, our work is done.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">Whitefoot went lame this side o&rsquo; the mill,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent4">And I&rsquo;m as dry as an old lime-kiln.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Red rogue, he&rsquo;ll kill his goose no more:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Close work it was, for the light is o&rsquo;er.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Just <em>close</em> work, sir, but the Dub&rsquo;s <em>close to</em>,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With a can for me and a crab for you!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_62" title="62"> </a><a name="Poem_69">BLACK SILE OF THE SILVER EYE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">As I rode down to Gartan fair<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I met a girl upon the way:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The winter night was on her hair,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The summer dawn was in her eye.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And O, she stepped with such a gait,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And bore her round black head so high,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And tossed it so, I knew her straight<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For Sile of the Silver Eye.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;God save you, Sile, love,&rdquo; says I:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&ldquo;God save you kindly,&rdquo; murmured she&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And love was welling in her eye<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As she dropped me the courtesy.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The mountain boys upon the road<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Were at themselves for jealousy<br/></div>
+<div class="line">When they saw Seamus win the nod<br/></div>
+<div class="line">From Sile of the Silver Eye.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">We rode together to the fair,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">We danced together on the green;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And, faith, they say a suppler pair<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Was ne&rsquo;er before a piper seen.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_63" title="63"> </a><div class="line">Black Sile of the Silver Eye<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Has been my wife for twenty year,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And still her sloe-black head is high,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And still her eye is silver clear.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And, God be praised, we have a girl,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As like her as like well can be&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The round black head, the roguish curl,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The soft tongue and the silver eye.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">God bless the old, God bless the new,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And send them stout posterity&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Old Sile and young Sile, too&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Both &ldquo;Sile of the Silver Eye!&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_70">A SHEEPDOG BARKS ON THE MOUNTAIN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">A sheepdog barks on the mountain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The night is fallen cold;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The shepherd blinks at his fire,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sheep are in the fold.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The moon comes white and quiet<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Into the winter sky;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And nothing walks the valley<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To-night but you and I.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_64" title="64"> </a><a name="Poem_71">DEAD OAKLEAVES EVERYWHERE</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Dead oakleaves everywhere<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Under my feet,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Filling the forest air<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With odours sweet.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Acorns, three, four and five,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Falling apace.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Thank God I am alive<br/></div>
+<div class="line">This day of grace!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_72">A NIGHT PRAYER</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Pray for me, Seachnal,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Pray for me, Mel:<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Save me from sin<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the cold stone of hell!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Brigid and Ita<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And Eithne the Red,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Spread out your mantles<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And cover my bed!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">For rann and gospel<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Have gone from my mind,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And devils are walking<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Abroad in the wind!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_65" title="65"> </a><a name="Poem_73">I AM THE MOUNTAINY SINGER</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I am the mountainy singer,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And I would sing of the Christ<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who followed the paths thro&rsquo; the mountains<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To eat at the people&rsquo;s tryst.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">He loved the sun-dark people<br/></div>
+<div class="line">As the young man loves his bride,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And he moved among their thatches,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And for them he was crucified.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And the people loved him, also,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">More than their houses or lands,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For they had known his pity<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And felt the touch of his hands.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And they dreamed with him in the mountains,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And they walked with him on the sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And they prayed with him in the garden,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And bled with him on the tree.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Not ever by longing and dreaming<br/></div>
+<div class="line">May they come to him now,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">But by the thorns of sorrow<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That bruised his kingly brow.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_66" title="66"> </a><a name="Poem_74">THE RAINBOW SPANNING A PLANET SHOWER</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The rainbow spanning a planet shower,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sloe in berry, the flax in flower.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The scholar&rsquo;s satchel, the beggar&rsquo;s staff,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The ploughman&rsquo;s whistle, the tinker&rsquo;s laugh.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The stranded hooker, the breaking wave,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sunrise gilding the carn of Medb.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The strength of mountains, the swiftness of wind<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Blowing over the leagues behind.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The hot lips sealing the spoken word,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The song in gentle places heard.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The wildgoose trumpeting in the blue,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The postcar stuck in a drift of snow.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The bogslide moving, the seaward leap,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The cry, the townland whelmed in sleep.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The sock on the anvil, the thread in the loom,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The Host on the altar, the child in the womb.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The wayside murder, the whispered name,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The hanging body, the hidden shame.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">And more&mdash;if you but listen and look&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In this, my elemental book!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_67" title="67"> </a><a name="Poem_75">I WILL GO WITH MY FATHER A-PLOUGHING</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I will go with my father a-ploughing<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To the green field by the sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the rooks and the crows and the seagulls<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will come flocking after me.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I will sing to the patient horses<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With the lark in the white of the air,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And my father will sing the plough-song<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That blesses the cleaving share.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I will go with my father a-sowing<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To the red field by the sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the rooks and the gulls and the starlings<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will come flocking after me.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I will sing to the striding sowers<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With the finch on the greening sloe,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And my father will sing the seed-song<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That only the wise men know.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I will go with my father a-reaping<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To the brown field by the sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the geese and the crows and the children<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Will come flocking after me.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I will sing to the tanfaced reapers<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With the wren in the heat of the sun,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And my father will sing the scythe-song<br/></div>
+<div class="line">That joys for the harvest done.<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_68" title="68"> </a><a name="Poem_76">THE SHINING SPACES OF THE SOUTH</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The shining spaces of the south,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The circle of the year, the sea,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The blowing rose, the maiden&rsquo;s mouth,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The love, the hate, the ecstasy,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The golden wood, the shadowed stream,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The dew, the light, the wind, the rain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The man&rsquo;s desire, the woman&rsquo;s dream,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The bed embrace, the childing pain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sound of music heard afar,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The breathing grass, the broken sod,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The sun, the moon, the twilight star&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Do all proclaim the mind of God.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Then why should I, who am but clay,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Think otherwise, or answer nay?<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_77">LIKE A TUFT OF CEANABHAN</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Like a tuft of <i>ceanabhan</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line">Blowing in the wind<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is my slender Aine Ban&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">White and soft and kind.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Kind her heart is, but her clann&rsquo;s<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Cold as clay or stone.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Would that I had herds and lands<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To take her for my own!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_69" title="69"> </a><a name="Poem_78">THE HERB-LEECH</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I have gathered <i>luss</i><br/></div>
+<div class="line">At the wane of the moon,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And supped its sap<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With a yewen spoon.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I have sat a spell<br/></div>
+<div class="line">By the carn of Medb,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And smelt the mould<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the red queen&rsquo;s grave.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I have dreamed a dearth<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In the darkened sun,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And felt the hand<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the Evil One.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I have fathomed war<br/></div>
+<div class="line">In the comet&rsquo;s tail,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And heard the crying<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of Gall and Gael.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">I have seen the spume<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On the dead priest&rsquo;s lips,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the &ldquo;holy fire&rdquo;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On the spars of ships;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the shooting stars<br/></div>
+<div class="line">On Barthelmy&rsquo;s Night,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Blanching the dark<br/></div>
+<div class="line">With ghostly light;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And the corpse-candle<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the seer&rsquo;s dream,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Bigger in girth<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Than a weaver&rsquo;s beam;<br/></div>
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_70" title="70"> </a><div class="line">And the shy hearth-fairies<br/></div>
+<div class="line">About the grate,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Blowing the turves<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To a whiter heat.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">All things on earth<br/></div>
+<div class="line">To me are known,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">For I have the gift<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Of the Murrain Stone!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a name="Poem_79">WHO BUYS LAND</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Who buys land buys many stones,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who buys flesh buys many bones;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who buys eggs buys many shells,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who buys love buys nothing else.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Love is a burr upon the floor,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Love is a thief behind the door;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Who loves leman for her breath<br/></div>
+<div class="line">May quench his fire and cry for death!<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Love is a bridle, love is a load,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Love is a thorn upon the road;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Love is the fly that flits its hour,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Love is the shining venom-flower.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Love is a net, love is a snare,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Love is a bubble blown with air;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Love starts hot, and waning cold,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Is withered in the grave&rsquo;s mould!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_71" title="71"> </a><a name="Poem_80">THE POET LOOSED A WINGÈD SONG</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The poet loosed a wingèd song<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Against the hulk of England&rsquo;s wrong.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Were poisoned words at his command,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Twould not avail for Ireland.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The soldier lifted up a sword,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And on the hills in battle poured<br/></div>
+<div class="line">His life-blood like an ebbing sea&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And still we pine for liberty.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The friar spoke his bitter hope,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And danced upon the gallows rope.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Were he to dance that dance again<br/></div>
+<div class="line">A hundred times, &rsquo;twould be in vain.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">Christ save us! only thou canst save!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">The nation staggers to the grave.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Can genius, valour, faith be given,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And win no recompense of heaven?<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">No, Christ! by Ireland&rsquo;s martyrs, no!<br/></div>
+<div class="line">&rsquo;Twas not for this we suffered so.<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Die, die again on Calvary tree,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">If needs be, Christ, to set us free!<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent14">To set us free!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="keep-together">
+<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_72" title="72"> </a><a name="Poem_81">SIC TRANSIT</a></h2>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">I lit my tallow<br/></div>
+<div class="line">An hour ago,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And now it is burning<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Dark and low.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">The glimmer lengthens<br/></div>
+<div class="line">And turns about,<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Sinks in the sconce&mdash;<br/></div>
+<div class="line">Then flickers out!<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Mountainy Singer, by Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,2994 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mountainy Singer, by Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
+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 Mountainy Singer
+
+Author: Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
+Release Date: February 18, 2012 [EBook #38927]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOUNTAINY SINGER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jana Srna
+
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Notes:
+
+    Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
+    as possible, including any inconsistencies in the original.
+
+    Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+
+
+
+  BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
+
+  THE GARDEN OF THE BEES
+  THE RUSHLIGHT
+  THE MAN-CHILD
+  THE GILLY OF CHRIST
+
+
+
+
+  THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+  BY SEOSAMH MacCATHMHAOIL
+
+
+  MAUNSEL AND COMPANY, LTD.
+  96 MID. ABBEY STREET, DUBLIN
+  1909
+
+  All Rights Reserved
+
+
+
+
+  Dedit pauperibus.
+          Lib. Psalm.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                           PAGE
+
+  I am the Mountainy Singer                   1
+
+  When Rooks Fly Homeward                     2
+
+  I Spin my Golden Web                        2
+
+  Cherry Valley                               3
+
+  Darkness                                    3
+
+  My Fidil is Singing                         4
+
+  The Goat Dealer                             4
+
+  Why Crush the Claret Rose                   5
+
+  Lament of Padraic Mor Mac Cruimin           6
+
+  To a Town Girl                              8
+
+  A March Moon                                8
+
+  A Thousand Feet Up                          9
+
+  The Dark                                    9
+
+  Reynardine                                 11
+
+  Snow                                       11
+
+  I am the Gilly of Christ                   12
+
+  Go, Ploughman, Plough                      13
+
+  Go, Reaper                                 14
+
+  The Good People                            14
+
+  The Storm is Still, the Rain hath Ceased   15
+
+  Scare-the-Crows                            16
+
+  A Cradle Song                              17
+
+  Twine the Mazes Thro' and Thro'            18
+
+  The Fighting-Man                           19
+
+  My Mother has a Wee Red Shoe               20
+
+  By a Wondrous Mystery                      21
+
+  I Gather Three Ears of Corn                22
+
+  The Tinkers                                23
+
+  As I Came over the Grey, Grey Hills        24
+
+  A Northern Love-Song                       24
+
+  To the Golden Eagle                        25
+
+  A Prophecy                                 26
+
+  I Met a Walking-Man                        27
+
+  The Ninepenny Fidil                        28
+
+  Grasslands are Fair                        29
+
+  Winter Song                                30
+
+  I Follow a Star                            30
+
+  The Silence of Unlaboured Fields           31
+
+  The Beggar's Wake                          32
+
+  The Besom-Man                              36
+
+  Every Shuiler is Christ                    38
+
+  I Wish and I Wish                          39
+
+  I am the Man-Child                         40
+
+  Fragment                                   41
+
+  At the Whitening of the Dawn               42
+
+  Who are My Friends                         43
+
+  O Glorious Childbearer                     44
+
+  Coronach                                   44
+
+  Twilight Fallen                            45
+
+  The Dawn Whiteness                         45
+
+  The Dwarf                                  46
+
+  I See all Love in Lowly Things             47
+
+  'Tis Pretty tae be in Baile-Liosan         48
+
+  Ciaran, the Master of Horses and Lands     49
+
+  Deep Ways and Dripping Boughs              50
+
+  Night, and I Travelling                    50
+
+  Night-Piece                                51
+
+  At Morning Tide                            51
+
+  The May-Fire                               52
+
+  I Love the Din of Beating Drums            54
+
+  Three Colts Exercising in a Six-acre       54
+
+  The Natural                                55
+
+  On the Top-Stone                           55
+
+  The Women at their Doors                   56
+
+  My Little Dark Love                        57
+
+  I Heard a Piper Piping                     58
+
+  The Clouds go By and By                    58
+
+  Davy Daw                                   59
+
+  Black Sile of the Silver Eye               62
+
+  A Sheep-Dog Barks on the Mountain          63
+
+  Dead Oakleaves Everywhere                  64
+
+  A Night Prayer                             64
+
+  I am the Mountainy Singer                  65
+
+  The Rainbow Spanning a Planet Shower       66
+
+  I will Go with My Father A-Ploughing       67
+
+  The Shining Spaces of the South            68
+
+  Like a Tuft of Ceanabhan                   68
+
+  The Herb-Leech                             69
+
+  Who Buys Land                              70
+
+  The Poet Loosed a Winged Song              71
+
+  Sic Transit                                72
+
+
+This book is made up of a selection from the Author's early books, with
+many new poems added.
+
+
+
+
+A LINE'S A SPEECH
+
+
+  A line's a speech;
+  So here's a line
+  To say this pedlar's pack
+  Of mine
+  Is not a book--
+  But a journey thro'
+  Mountainy places,
+  Ever in view
+  Of the sea and the fields,
+  With the rough wind
+  Blowing over the leagues
+  Behind!
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+
+  I am the mountainy singer--
+  The voice of the peasant's dream,
+  The cry of the wind on the wooded hill,
+  The leap of the fish in the stream.
+
+  Quiet and love I sing--
+  The carn on the mountain crest,
+  The cailin in her lover's arms,
+  The child at its mother's breast.
+
+  Beauty and peace I sing--
+  The fire on the open hearth,
+  The cailleach spinning at her wheel,
+  The plough in the broken earth.
+
+  Travail and pain I sing--
+  The bride on the childing bed,
+  The dark man labouring at his rhymes,
+  The ewe in the lambing shed.
+
+  Sorrow and death I sing--
+  The canker come on the corn,
+  The fisher lost in the mountain loch,
+  The cry at the mouth of morn.
+
+  No other life I sing,
+  For I am sprung of the stock
+  That broke the hilly land for bread,
+  And built the nest in the rock!
+
+
+
+
+WHEN ROOKS FLY HOMEWARD
+
+
+  When rooks fly homeward
+  And shadows fall,
+  When roses fold
+  On the hay-yard wall,
+  When blind moths flutter
+  By door and tree,
+        Then comes the quiet
+        Of Christ to me.
+
+  When stars look out
+  On the Children's Path
+  And grey mists gather
+  On carn and rath,
+  When night is one
+  With the brooding sea,
+        Then comes the quiet
+        Of Christ to me.
+
+
+
+
+I SPIN MY GOLDEN WEB
+
+
+  I spin my golden web in the sun:
+  The cherries tremble, the light is done.
+
+  A sudden wind sweeps over the bay,
+  And carries my golden web away!
+
+
+
+
+CHERRY VALLEY
+
+
+  In Cherry Valley the cherries blow:
+  The valley paths are white as snow.
+
+  And in their time with clusters red
+  The scented boughs are crimsoned.
+
+  Even now the moon is looking thro'
+  The glimmer of the honey dew.
+
+  A petal trembles to the grass,
+  The feet of fairies pass and pass.
+
+  By _them_, I know, all beauty comes
+  To me, a habitan of slums.
+
+  I sing no rune, I say no line:
+  The gift of second sight is mine!
+
+
+
+
+DARKNESS
+
+
+  Darkness.
+  I stop to watch a star shine in the boghole----
+  A star no longer, but a silver ribbon of light.
+  I look at it, and pass on.
+
+
+
+
+MY FIDIL IS SINGING
+
+
+  My fidil is singing
+  Into the air;
+  The wind is stirring,
+  The moon is fair.
+
+  A shadow wanders
+  Along the road;
+  It stops to listen,
+  And drops its load.
+
+  Dreams for a space
+  Upon the moon,
+  Then passes, humming
+  My mountain tune.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOAT-DEALER
+
+
+  Did you see the goat-dealer
+  All in his jacket green?
+  I met him on the rocky road
+  'Twixt this and Baile-doirin.
+
+  A hundred nannies ran before,
+  And a she-ass behind,
+  And then the old wanderer himself,
+  Burnt red with sun and wind.
+
+  He gave me the time-a-day
+  And doitered over the hill,
+  Walloping his gay ashplant
+  And shouting his fill.
+
+  I think I hear him yet,
+  Tho' it's a giant's cry
+  From where I hailed him first,
+  Standing up to the sky.
+
+  Is that Puck Green I see beyond?
+  It is, and the stir is there.
+  By the holy hat, I know then--
+  He's making for Puck Fair!
+
+
+
+
+WHY CRUSH THE CLARET ROSE
+
+
+  Why crush the claret rose
+  That blows
+  So rarely on the tree?
+  Wherefore the enmity, dear girl,
+  Betwixt the rose and thee?
+  Art thou not fair enough
+  With that dark beauty given thee,
+  That thou must crush the rose
+  That blows
+  So rarely on the tree!
+
+
+
+
+LAMENT OF PADRAIC MOR MAC CRUIMIN OVER HIS SONS
+
+
+  I am Padraic Mor mac Cruimin,
+  Son of Domhnall of the Shroud,
+  Piper, like my kind before me,
+  To the household of MacLeod.
+
+  Death is in the seed of Cruimin--
+  All my music is a wail;
+  Early graves await the poets
+  And the pipers of the Gael.
+
+  Samhain gleans the golden harvests
+  Duly in their tide and time,
+  But my body's fruit is blasted
+  Barely past the Bealtein prime.
+
+  Cethlenn claims the fairest fighters
+  Fitly for her own, her own,
+  But my seven sons are stricken
+  Where no battle-pipe is blown.
+
+  Flowers of the forest fallen
+  On the sliding summer stream--
+  Light and life and love are with me,
+  Then are vanished into dream.
+
+  Berried branches of the rowan
+  Rifled in the wizard wind--
+  Clan and generation leave me,
+  Lonely on the heath behind.
+
+  Who will soothe a father's sorrow
+  When his seven sons are gone?
+  Who will watch him in his sleeping?
+  Who will wake him at the dawn?
+
+  Seven sons are taken from me
+  In the compass of a year;
+  Every bone is bose within me,
+  All my blood is white with fear.
+
+  Seven youths of brawn and beauty
+  Moulder in their mountain bed,
+  Up in storied Inis-Scathach
+  Where their fathers reaped their bread.
+
+  Nevermore upon the mountain,
+  Nevermore in fair or field,
+  Shall ye see the seven champions
+  Of the silver-mantled shield.
+
+  I will play the "_Cumhadh na Cloinne_"
+  Wildest of the rowth of tunes
+  Gathered by the love of mortal
+  From the olden druid runes.
+
+  Wail ye! Night is on the water;
+  Wind and wave are roaring loud--
+  _Caoine_ for the fallen children
+  Of the piper of MacLeod.
+
+
+
+
+TO A TOWN GIRL
+
+
+  Violet mystery,
+  Ringleted gold,
+  Whiteness of whiteness,
+  Wherefore so cold?
+
+  Silent you sit there--
+  Spirit and mould--
+  Darkening the dream
+  That must never be told!
+
+
+
+
+A MARCH MOON
+
+
+  A March moon
+  Over the mountain crest,
+  _Ceanabhan_ blowing:
+  Her neck and breast.
+
+  Arbutus berries
+  On the tree head:
+  Her mouth of passion,
+  Dewy and red.
+
+  Cold as cold
+  And hot as hot,
+  She loves me . . . .
+  And she loves me not!
+
+
+
+
+A THOUSAND FEET UP
+
+
+  A thousand feet up: twilight.
+  Westwards, a clump of firtrees silhouetted against a bank of blue
+    cumulus cloud;
+  The June afterglow like a sea behind.
+  The mountain trail, white and clear where human feet have worn it,
+    zigzagging higher and higher till it loses itself in the southern
+    skyline.
+  A patch of young corn to my right hand, swaying and swaying
+    continuously, tho' hardly an air stirs.
+  A falcon wheeling overhead.
+  The moon rising.
+  The damp smell of the night in my nostrils.
+
+  O hills, O hills,
+  To you I lift mine eyes!
+  I kneel down and kiss the grass under my feet.
+  The sense of the mystery and infinity of things overwhelms me,
+    annihilates me almost.
+  I kneel down, and silently worship.
+
+
+
+
+THE DARK
+
+
+  This is the dark.
+  This is the dream that came of the dark.
+  This is the dreamer who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+  This is the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of
+    the dark.
+
+  This is the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed
+    the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the breast that fired the love that followed the look the
+    dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the song was made to the breast that fired the love that
+    followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came
+    of the dark.
+
+  This is the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that
+    fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed
+    the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the rope that swung the sword that tracked the song was made
+    to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer
+    looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the dark that buried the rope that swung the sword that tracked
+    the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the
+    look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.
+
+  This is the dark, indeed!
+
+
+
+
+REYNARDINE
+
+
+  _If by chance you look for me_
+  _Perhaps you'll not me find,_
+  _For I'll be in my castle--_
+  _Enquire for Reynardine!_
+
+  Sun and dark he courted me--
+  His eyes were red as wine:
+  He took me for his leman,
+  Did my sweet Reynardine.
+
+  Sun and dark the gay horn blows,
+  The beagles run like wind:
+  They know not where he harbours,
+  The fairy Reynardine.
+
+  _If by chance you look for me_
+  _Perhaps you'll not me find,_
+  _For I'll be in my castle--_
+  _Enquire for Reynardine!_
+
+
+
+
+SNOW
+
+
+  Hills that were dark
+  At sparing-time last night
+  Now in the dawn-ring
+  Glimmer cold and white.
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE GILLY OF CHRIST
+
+
+  I am the gilly of Christ,
+  The mate of Mary's Son;
+  I run the roads at seeding time,
+  And when the harvest's done.
+
+  I sleep among the hills,
+  The heather is my bed;
+  I dip the termon-well for drink,
+  And pull the sloe for bread.
+
+  No eye has ever seen me,
+  But shepherds hear me pass,
+  Singing at fall of even
+  Along the shadowed grass.
+
+  The beetle is my bellman,
+  The meadow-fire my guide,
+  The bee and bat my ambling nags
+  When I have need to ride.
+
+  All know me only the Stranger,
+  Who sits on the Saxon's height;
+  He burned the bacach's little house
+  On last Saint Brigid's Night.
+
+  He sups off silver dishes,
+  And drinks in a golden horn,
+  But he will wake a wiser man
+  Upon the Judgment Morn!
+
+  I am the gilly of Christ,
+  The mate of Mary's Son;
+  I run the roads at seeding time,
+  And when the harvest's done.
+
+  The seed I sow is lucky,
+  The corn I reap is red,
+  And whoso sings the Gilly's Rann
+  Will never cry for bread.
+
+
+
+
+GO, PLOUGHMAN, PLOUGH
+
+
+  Go, ploughman, plough
+  The mearing lands,
+  The meadow lands,
+  The mountain lands:
+  All life is bare
+  Beneath your share,
+  All love is in your lusty hands.
+
+  Up, horses, now!
+  And straight and true
+  Let every broken furrow run:
+  The strength you sweat
+  Shall blossom yet
+  In golden glory to the sun.
+
+
+
+
+GO, REAPER
+
+
+  Go, reaper,
+  Speed and reap,
+  Go take the harvest
+  Of the plough:
+  The wheat is standing
+  Broad and deep,
+  The barley glumes
+  Are golden now.
+
+  Labour is hard,
+  But it endures
+  Like love:
+  The land is yours:
+  Go reap the life
+  It gives you now,
+  O sunbrowned master
+  Of the plough!
+
+
+
+
+THE GOOD PEOPLE
+
+
+  The millway path looks like a wraith,
+  The lock is black as ink,
+  And silently in stream and sky
+  The stars begin to blink.
+
+  I see them pass along the grass
+  With slow and solemn tread:
+  Aoibheall, their queen, is in between--
+  A corpse is at their head!
+
+  They wander on with faces wan,
+  And dirges sad as wind.
+  I know not, but it may be that
+  The dead's of human kind.
+
+
+
+
+THE STORM IS STILL, THE RAIN HATH CEASED
+
+
+  The storm is still, the rain hath ceased
+  To vex the beauty of the east:
+  A linnet singeth in the wood
+  His hermit song of gratitude.
+
+  So shall I sing when life is done
+  To greet the glory of the sun;
+  And cloud and star and stream and sea
+  Shall dance for very ecstasy!
+
+
+
+
+SCARE-THE-CROWS
+
+
+  Twopence a day for scaring crows--
+  Tho' the rain beats and the wind blows!
+
+  The scholars think I've little wit,
+  But, God! I've got my share of it.
+
+  Why does the gorbing land-shark
+  Leave ploughed rigs for the green park?
+
+  Where little's to find, and nothing's to eat
+  But rabbits' droppings and pheasants' meat.
+
+  He knows better than come my way
+  Between the mouth and the tail of day.
+
+  For one lick of my hurding wattle
+  Would lay him out like a showman's bottle!
+
+  And the thoughts that rise in my crazed head
+  When the cloud is low and the wind's dead.
+
+  Where you see only clay and stones
+  I see swords and blanching bones. . . .
+
+  But I'll leave you now--it's gone six,
+  And the smoke is curling over the ricks.
+
+  And it's hardly like that the land-shark
+  Will trouble the furrows after dark.
+
+
+
+
+A CRADLE-SONG
+
+
+  Sleep, white love, sleep,
+  A cedarn cradle holds thee,
+  And twilight, like a silver-woven coverlid,
+  Enfolds thee.
+  Moon and star keep charmed watch
+  Upon thy lying;
+  Water plovers thro' the dusk
+  Are tremulously crying.
+        Sleep, white love mine,
+        Till day doth shine.
+
+  Sleep, white love, sleep,
+  The daylight wanes, and deeper
+  Gathers the blue darkness
+  O'er the cradle of the sleeper.
+  Cliodhna's curachs, carmine-oared,
+  On Loch-da-linn are gleaming;
+  Blind bats flutter thro' the night,
+  And carrion birds are screaming.
+        Sleep, white love mine,
+        Till day doth shine.
+
+  Sleep, white love, sleep,
+  The holy mothers, Anne and Mary,
+  Sit high in heaven, dreaming
+  On the seven ends of Eire.
+  Brigid sits beside them,
+  Spinning lamb-white wool on whorls,
+  Singing fragrant songs of love
+  To little naked boys and girls.
+        Sleep, white love mine,
+        Till day doth shine.
+
+
+
+
+TWINE THE MAZES THRO' AND THRO'
+
+
+  Twine the mazes thro' and thro'
+  Over beach and margent pale;
+  Not a bawn appears in view,
+  Not a sail!
+
+  Round about!
+  In and out!
+  Thro' the stones and sandy bars
+  To the music of the stars!
+  The asteroidal fire that dances
+  Nightly in the northern blue,
+  The brightest of the boreal lances,
+  Dances not so light as you,
+        Cliodhna!
+  Dances not so light as you.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIGHTING-MAN
+
+
+  A fighting-man he was,
+  Guts and soul;
+  His blood as hot and red
+  As that on Cain's hand-towel.
+
+  A copper-skinned six-footer,
+  Hewn out of the rock.
+  Who would stand up against
+  His hammer-knock?
+
+  Not a sinner--
+  No, and not one dared!
+  Giants showed clean heels
+  When his arm was bared.
+
+  I've seen him swing an anvil
+  Fifty feet,
+  Break a bough in two,
+  And tear a twisted sheet.
+
+  And the music of his roar--
+  Like oaks in thunder cleaving;
+  Lips foaming red froth,
+  And flanks heaving.
+
+  God! a goodly man,
+  A Gael, the last
+  Of those that stood with Dan
+  On Mullach-Maist!
+
+
+
+
+MY MOTHER HAS A WEE RED SHOE
+
+
+  My mother has a wee red shoe--
+  She bought it off a bacach-man;
+  And all the neighbours say it's true
+  He stole it off a Leath-brogan.
+        Bacach-man, bacach-man,
+        Where did you get it?
+        Faith now, says he,
+        In my leather wallet!
+
+  My father has an arrow-head--
+  He begged it off poor Peig na Blath;
+  And Mor, the talking-woman, said
+  She found it in a fairy rath.
+        Peig na Blath, Peig na Blath,
+        Where did you get it?
+        Faith now, says she,
+        In my wincey jacket!
+
+  My brother has a copper pot--
+  He tryst' it wi' a shuiler-man;
+  And gossip says it's like as not
+  He truff'd it from a Clobhair-ceann.
+        Shuiler-man, shuiler-man,
+        Where did you get it?
+        Faith now, says he,
+        In my breeches' pocket!
+
+
+
+
+BY A WONDROUS MYSTERY
+
+
+  By a wondrous mystery
+  Christ of Mary's fair body
+  Upon a middle winter's morn,
+  Between the tides of night and day,
+  In Ara's holy isle was born.
+  Mary went upon her knee
+  Travailing in ecstasy,
+  And Brigid, mistress of the birth,
+  Full reverently and tenderly
+  Laid the child upon the earth.
+  Then the dark-eyed rose did blow,
+  And rivers leaped from out the snow.
+  Earth grew lyrical: the grass,
+  As the light winds chanced to pass--
+  Than magian music more profound--
+  Murmured in a maze of sound.
+  White incense rose upon the hills
+  As from a thousand thuribles,
+  And in the east a seven-rayed star
+  Proclaimed the news to near and far.
+  The shepherd danced, the gilly ran,
+  The boatman left his curachan;
+  The king came riding on the wind
+  To offer gifts of coin and kind;
+  The druid dropped his ogham wand,
+  And said, "Another day's at hand,
+  A newer dawn is in the sky:
+  I put my withered sapling by.
+  The druid Christ has taken breath
+  To sing the runes of life and death."
+
+
+
+
+I GATHER THREE EARS OF CORN
+
+
+  I gather three ears of corn,
+  And the Black Earl from over the sea
+  Sails across in his silver ships,
+  And takes two out of the three.
+
+  I might build a house on the hill
+  And a barn of the speckly stone,
+  And tell my little stocking of gold,
+  If the Earl would let me alone.
+
+  But he has no thought for me--
+  Only the thought of his share,
+  And the softness of the linsey shifts
+  His lazy daughters wear.
+
+  There is a God in heaven,
+  And angels, score on score,
+  Who will not see my hearthstone cold
+  Because I'm crazed and poor.
+
+  My childer have my blood,
+  And when they get their beards
+  They will not be content to run
+  As gillies to their herds!
+
+  The day will come, maybe,
+  When we can have our own,
+  And the Black Earl will come to us
+  Begging the bacach's bone!
+
+
+
+
+THE TINKERS
+
+
+  "One _ciarog_ knows another _ciarog_,
+  And why shouldn't I know you, you rogue?"
+  "They say a stroller will never pair
+  Except with one of his kind and care . . ."
+  So talked two tinkers prone in the shough--
+  And then, as the fun got a trifle rough,
+  They flitted: he with his corn-straw bass,
+  She with her load of tin and brass:
+  As mad a match as you would see
+  In a twelvemonth's ride thro' Christendie.
+  He roared--they both were drunk as hell:
+  She danced, and danced it mighty well!
+  I could have eyed them longer, but
+  They staggered for the Quarry Cut:
+  That half-perch seemed to trouble them more
+  Than all the leagues they'd tramped before.
+  Some'll drink at the fair the morrow,
+  And some'll sup with the spoon of sorrow;
+  But whether _they_'ll get as far as Droichid
+  The night--well, who knows that but God?
+
+
+
+
+AS I CAME OVER THE GREY, GREY HILLS
+
+
+  As I came over the grey, grey hills
+  And over the grey, grey water,
+  I saw the gilly leading on,
+  And the white Christ following after.
+
+  Where and where does the gilly lead?
+  And where is the white Christ faring?
+  They've travelled the four grey sounds of Orc,
+  And the four grey seas of Eirinn.
+
+  The moon it set and the wind's away,
+  And the song in the grass is dying,
+  And a silver cloud on the silent sea
+  Like a shrouding sheet is lying.
+
+  But Christ and the gilly will follow on
+  Till the ring in the east is showing,
+  And the awny corn is red on the hills,
+  And the golden light is glowing!
+
+
+
+
+A NORTHERN LOVE-SONG
+
+
+  Brigidin Ban of the lint-white locks,
+  What was it gave you that flaxen hair,
+  Long as the summer heath in the rocks?
+  What was it gave you those eyes of fire,
+  Lip so waxen and cheek so wan?
+  Tell me, tell me, Brigidin Ban,
+  Little white bride of my heart's desire.
+
+  Was it the Good People stole you away,
+  Little white changeling, Brigidin Ban?
+  Carried you off in the ring of the dawn,
+  Laid like a queen on her purple car,
+  Carried you back 'twixt the night and the day;
+  Gave you that fortune of flaxen hair,
+  Gave you those eyes of wandering fire,
+  Lit at the wheel of the southern star;
+  Gave you that look so far away,
+  Lip so waxen and cheek so wan?
+  Tell me, tell me, Brigidin Ban,
+  Little white bride of my heart's desire.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE GOLDEN EAGLE
+
+
+  Wanderer of the mountain,
+  Winger of the blue,
+  From this stormy rock
+  I send my love to you.
+
+  Take me for your lover,
+  Dark and fierce and true--
+  Wanderer of the mountain,
+  Winger of the blue!
+
+
+
+
+A PROPHECY
+
+
+  "The loins of the Galldacht
+   Shall wither like grass"--
+   Strange words I heard said
+   At the Fair of Dun-eas.
+
+  "A bard shall be born
+   Of the seed of the folk,
+   To break with his singing
+   The bond and the yoke.
+
+  "A sword, white as ashes,
+   Shall fall from the sky,
+   To rise, red as blood,
+   On the charge and the cry.
+
+  "Stark pipers shall blow,
+   Stout drummers shall beat,
+   And the shout of the north
+   Shall be heard in the street.
+
+  "The strong shall go down,
+   And the weak shall prevail,
+   And a glory shall sit
+   On the sign of the Gaodhal.
+
+  "Then Emer shall come
+   In good time by her own,
+   And a man of the people
+   Shall speak from the throne."
+
+   Strange words I heard said
+   At the Fair of Dun-eas--
+  "The Gaodhaldacht shall live,
+   The Galldacht shall pass!"
+
+
+
+
+I MET A WALKING-MAN
+
+
+  I met a walking-man;
+  His head was old and grey.
+  I gave him what I had
+  To crutch him on his way.
+  The man was Mary's Son, I'll swear;
+  A glory trembled in his hair!
+
+  And since that blessed day
+  I've never known the pinch:
+  I plough a broad townland,
+  And dig a river-inch;
+  And on my hearth the fire is bright
+  For all that walk by day or night.
+
+
+
+
+THE NINEPENNY FIDIL
+
+
+  My father and mother were Irish,
+  And I am Irish, too;
+  I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,
+  And it is Irish, too.
+  I'm up in the morning early
+  To meet the dawn of day,
+  And to the lintwhite's piping
+  The many's the tune I play.
+
+  One pleasant eve in June time
+  I met a lochrie-man:
+  His face and hands were weazen,
+  His height was not a span.
+  He boor'd me for my fidil--
+  "You know," says he, "like you,
+  My father and mother were Irish,
+  And I am Irish, too!"
+
+  He took my wee red fidil,
+  And such a tune he turned--
+  The Glaise in it whispered,
+  The Lionan in it m'urned.
+  Says he, "My lad, you're lucky--
+  I wish t' I was like you:
+  You're lucky in your birth-star,
+  And in your fidil, too!"
+
+  He gave me back my fidil,
+  My fidil-stick, also,
+  And stepping like a mayboy,
+  He jumped the Leargaidh Knowe.
+  I never saw him after,
+  Nor met his gentle kind;
+  But, whiles, I think I hear him
+  A-wheening in the wind!
+
+  My father and mother were Irish,
+  And I am Irish, too:
+  I bought a wee fidil for ninepence,
+  And it is Irish, too.
+  I'm up in the morning early
+  To meet the dawn of day,
+  And to the lintwhite's piping
+  The many's the tune I play.
+
+
+
+
+GRASSLANDS ARE FAIR
+
+
+  Grasslands are fair,
+  Ploughlands are rare.
+  Grasslands are lonely,
+  Ploughlands are comely.
+  Grasslands breed cattle,
+  Ploughlands feed people.
+  Grasslands are not wrought,
+  Ploughlands swell with thought.
+
+
+
+
+WINTER SONG
+
+
+  'Twould skin a fairy
+  It is so airy,
+  And the snow it nips so cold:
+  Shepherd and squire
+  Sit by the fire,
+  The sheep are in the fold.
+
+  You have your wish--
+  A reeking dish,
+  And rubble walls about;
+  So pity the poor
+  That have no door
+  To keep the winter out!
+
+
+
+
+I FOLLOW A STAR
+
+
+  I follow a star
+  Burning deep in the blue,
+  A sign on the hills
+  Lit for me and for you!
+
+  Moon-red is the star,
+  Halo-ringed like a rood,
+  Christ's heart in its heart set,
+  Streaming with blood.
+
+  Follow the gilly
+  Beyond to the west:
+  He leads where the Christ lies
+  On Mary's white breast.
+
+  King, priest and prophet--
+  A child, and no more--
+  Adonai the Maker!
+  Come, let us adore.
+
+
+
+
+THE SILENCE OF UNLABOURED FIELDS
+
+
+  The silence of unlaboured fields
+  Lies like a judgment on the air:
+  A human voice is never heard:
+  The sighing grass is everywhere--
+  The sighing grass, the shadowed sky,
+  The cattle crying wearily!
+
+  Where are the lowland people gone?
+  Where are the sun-dark faces now?
+  The love that kept the quiet hearth,
+  The strength that held the speeding plough?
+  Grasslands and lowing herds are good,
+  But better human flesh and blood!
+
+
+
+
+THE BEGGAR'S WAKE
+
+
+  I watched at a beggar's wake
+  In the hills of Bearna-barr,
+  And the old men were telling stories
+  Of Troy and the Trojan war.
+
+  And a flickering fire of bog-deal
+  Burned on the open hearth,
+  And the night-wind roared in the chimney,
+  And darkness was over the earth.
+
+  And Tearlach Ban MacGiolla,
+  The piper of Gort, was there,
+  And he sat and he dreamed apart
+  In the arms of a sugan chair.
+
+  And sudden he woke from his dream
+  Like a dream-frightened child,
+  And his lips were pale and trembling,
+  And his eyes were wild.
+
+  And he stood straight up, and he cried,
+  With a wave of his withered hand,
+  "The days of the grasping stranger
+  Shall be few in the land!
+
+  "The scrip of his doom is written,
+  The thread of his shroud is spun;
+  The net of his strength is broken,
+  The tide of his life is run. . . ."
+
+  Then he sank to his seat like a stone,
+  And the watchers stared aghast,
+  And they crossed themselves for fear
+  As the coffin cart went past.
+
+  . . . . . . . .
+
+  "At the battle of Gleann-muic-duibh
+  The fate the poets foretold
+  Shall fall on the neck of the stranger,
+  And redden the plashy mould.
+
+  "The bagmen carry the story
+  The circuit of Ireland round,
+  And they sing it at fair and hurling
+  From Edair to Acaill Sound.
+
+  "And the folk repeat it over
+  About the winter fires,
+  Till the heart of each one listening
+  Is burning with fierce desires.
+
+  "In the Glen of the Bristleless Boar
+  They say the battle shall be,
+  Where Breiffne's iron mountains
+  Look on the Western sea.
+
+  "In the Glen of the Pig of Diarmad,
+  On Gulban's hither side,
+  The battle shall be broken
+  About the Samhain tide.
+
+  "Forth from the ancient hills,
+  With war-cries strident and loud,
+  The people shall march at daybreak,
+  Massed in a clamorous crowd.
+
+  "War-pipes shall scream and cry,
+  And battle-banners shall wave,
+  And every stone on Gulban
+  Shall mark a hero's grave.
+
+  "The horses shall wade to their houghs
+  In rivers of smoking blood,
+  Charging thro' heaps of corpses
+  Scattered in whinny and wood.
+
+  "The girths shall rot from their bellies
+  After the battle is done,
+  For lack of a hand to undo them
+  And hide them out of the sun.
+
+  "It shall not be the battle
+  Between the folk and the Sidhe
+  At the rape of a bride from her bed
+  Or a babe from its mother's knee.
+
+  "It shall not be the battle
+  Between the white hosts flying
+  And the shrieking devils of hell
+  For a priest at the point of dying.
+
+  "It shall not be the battle
+  Between the sun and the leaves,
+  Between the winter and summer,
+  Between the storm and the sheaves.
+
+  "But a battle to doom and death
+  Between the Gael and the Gall,
+  Between the sword of light
+  And the shield of darkness and thrall.
+
+  "And the Gael shall have the mastery
+  After a month of days,
+  And the lakes of the west shall cry,
+  And the hills of the north shall blaze.
+
+  "And the neck of the fair-haired Gall
+  Shall be as a stool for the feet
+  Of Ciaran, chief of the Gael,
+  Sitting in Emer's seat!"--
+
+  . . . . . . . .
+
+  At this MacGiolla fainted,
+  Tearing his yellow hair,
+  And the young men cursed the stranger,
+  And the old men mouthed a prayer.
+
+  For they knew the day would come,
+  As sure as the piper said,
+  When many loves would be parted,
+  And many graves would be red.
+
+  And the wake broke up in tumult,
+  And the women were left alone,
+  Keening over the beggar
+  That died at Gobnat's Stone.
+
+
+
+
+THE BESOM-MAN
+
+
+  Did you see Paidin,
+  Paidin, the besom-man,
+  Last night as you came by
+  Over the mountain?
+
+  A barth of new heather
+  He bore on his shoulder,
+  And a bundle of whitlow-grass
+  Under his oxter.
+
+  I spied him as he passed
+  Beyond the carn head,
+  But no eye saw him
+  At the hill foot after.
+
+  What has come over him?
+  The women are saying.
+  What can have crossed
+  Paidin, the besom-man?
+
+  The bogholes he knew
+  As the curlews know them,
+  And the rabbits' pads,
+  And the derelict quarries.
+
+  He was humming a tune--
+  The "Enchanted Valley"--
+  As he passed me westward
+  Beyond the carn.
+
+  I stood and I listened,
+  For his singing was strange:
+  It rang in my ears
+  The long night after.
+
+  What has come over
+  Paidin, the besom-man?
+  What can have crossed him?
+  The women keep saying.
+
+  They talk of the fairies--
+  And, God forgive me,
+  Paidin knew _them_
+  Like his prayers!
+
+  Will you fetch word
+  Up to the cross-roads
+  If you see track of him,
+  Living or dead?
+
+  The boys are loafing
+  Without game or caper;
+  And the dark piper
+  Is gone home with the birds.
+
+
+
+
+EVERY SHUILER IS CHRIST
+
+
+  Every shuiler is Christ,
+  Then be not hard or cold:
+  The bit that goes for Christ
+  Will come a hundred-fold.
+
+  The ear upon your corn
+  Will burst before its time;
+  Your roots will yield a crop
+  Without manure or lime.
+
+  And every sup you give
+  To crutch him on his way
+  Will fill your churn with milk,
+  And choke your barn with hay.
+
+  Then when the shuiler begs,
+  Be neither hard nor cold;
+  The share that goes for Christ
+  Will come a hundred-fold.
+
+
+
+
+I WISH AND I WISH
+
+
+  I wish and I wish
+  And I wish I were
+  A golden bee
+  In the blue of the air,
+  Winging my way
+  At the mouth of day
+  To the honey marges
+  Of Loch-ciuin-ban;
+  Or a little green drake,
+  Or a silver swan,
+  Floating upon
+  The stream of Aili,
+  And I to be swimming
+  Gaily, gaily!
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE MAN-CHILD
+
+
+  I am the man-child. From a virgin womb,
+  Begot among the hills of virgin loins,
+  The generation of a hundred kings,
+  I come. I am the man-child glorious,
+  The love-son of the second birth foretold
+  By western bards, the fruit of form and strength
+  By nature's prophylactic forethought joined
+  In marriage with their kind, the crown, the peak,
+  The summit of the scheme of things, the pride
+  And glory of the hand of God.
+
+                                    Behold!
+  Where in the spaces of the morning world
+  The sunrise shines my harbinger, the hills
+  Leap up, the young winds sing, the rivers dance,
+  The leaving forests laugh, the eagles scream;
+  For I am one with them, a mate, a brother,
+  Bound by nature to the human soul
+  That thro' the accidents of nature runs.
+  And wherefore do they leap and laugh and sing,
+  And dance like vestals on a holyday?
+  Because their hearts are glad, and maenad-like,
+  They fain would share the frenzied cup they drink
+  With me, the man-child glorious.
+
+                                    I am he,
+  Even he, the master-mould, the paragon!
+  Behold me in my nonage, child and man:
+  The ripest grape on beauty's procreant vine,
+  The reddest apple of ingathering:
+  Perfect in form, of peerless strength, and free
+  As Caoilte when he roamed the primal hills
+  (Those "wildernesses rich with liberty"),
+  A hero that the shocks of chance might strike,
+  But never tame, a giant druid-ringed,
+  A god-like savage of the golden days
+  Ere service shackled action: free itself
+  As Oisin when he strayed in Doire-cairn,
+  His hand upon the mountain top, his feet
+  Fixt in the flowing sea, his holy head
+  Crowned by a flight of birds, acclaiming him
+  The singer of the dawn.
+
+
+
+
+FRAGMENT
+
+
+  I stand upon the summit now:
+  The falcon, flying from the heath,
+  Trails darkly o'er the mountain brow
+  And drops into the gloom beneath.
+  Night falls, and with it comes the wind
+  That blew on Fionn time out of mind,
+  When weary of love-feasts and wars
+  He left his comrades all behind
+  To dream upon the quiet stars.
+  Here on the lonely mountain height
+  Is ecstasy and living light--
+  The living inner light that burns
+  With magic caught from those white urns
+  That wander thro' the trackless blue
+  Forever, touching those they know
+  With beauty, and the things that come
+  Of beauty. Earth lies at my feet,
+  A dumb, vast shadow, vast as dumb.
+
+
+
+
+AT THE WHITENING OF THE DAWN
+
+
+  At the whitening of the dawn,
+  As I came o'er the windy water,
+  I saw the salmon-fisher's daughter,
+  Nuala ni Cholumain.
+        Nuala ni Cholumain,
+        Nuala ni Cholumain,
+        Palest lily of the dawn
+        Is Nuala ni Cholumain.
+
+  In the dark of evendown
+  I went o'er the quiet water,
+  Dreaming of the fisher's daughter
+  And her bothy in the town.
+        And I made this simple rann
+        Ere the whitening of the dawn,
+        Singing to the beauty wan
+        Of Nuala ni Cholumain.
+
+
+
+
+WHO ARE MY FRIENDS
+
+
+  Who are my friends,
+  Faithful and true?
+  Who but the stars
+  That burn in the blue.
+
+  Who but the sun
+  That sinketh so red,
+  Who but the clay
+  That giveth me bread.
+
+  Who but the hills,
+  Who but the sea,
+  Who but the flowers
+  That fold on the tree.
+
+  Who but the moths
+  That flutter and pass,
+  Who but the lambs
+  That cry in the grass.
+
+  Who but the darkness,
+  Who but the rain,
+  Who but the grave, the grave--
+  All else are vain!
+        All else are vain!
+
+
+
+
+O GLORIOUS CHILDBEARER
+
+
+  O glorious childbearer,
+  O secret womb,
+  O gilded bridechamber, from which hath come the sightly Bridegroom forth,
+  O amber veil,
+  Thou sittest in heaven, the white love of the Gael.
+  Thy head is crowned with stars, thy radiant hair
+  Shines like a river thro' the twilight air;
+  Thou walkest by trodden ways and trackless seas,
+  Immaculate of man's infirmities.
+
+
+
+
+CORONACH
+
+
+  Come, pipes, sound
+  A crooning coronach round,
+  Till hill and hollow glen and shadowed lake o'erflow
+  With welling music of our woe.
+  Beat, beat, ye muffled drums, ye drones and chanters wail,
+  With heartbreak of the baffled, battle-broken Gael.
+  The clay is deep on Ireland's breast:
+  Her proud and bleeding heart is laid at last to rest . .
+      To rest . . to rest!
+
+
+
+
+TWILIGHT FALLEN
+
+
+  Twilight fallen white and cold,
+  Child in cradle, lamb in fold;
+  Glimmering thro' the ghostly trees,
+  Gemini and Pleiades.
+        Wounds of Eloim,
+        Weep on me!
+
+  Black-winged vampires flitting by,
+  Curlews crying in the sky;
+  Grey mists wreathing from the ground,
+  Wrapping rath and burial mound.
+        Wounds of Eloim,
+        Weep on me!
+
+  Heard, like some sad Gaelic strain,
+  Ocean's ancient voice in pain;
+  Darkness folding hill and wood,
+  Sorrow drinking at my blood.
+        Wounds of Eloim,
+        Weep on me!
+
+
+
+
+THE DAWN WHITENESS
+
+
+  The dawn whiteness.
+  A bank of slate-grey cloud lying heavily over it.
+  The moon, like a hunted thing, dropping into the cloud.
+
+
+
+
+THE DWARF
+
+
+  Look at him now, the son,
+  And the churchyard twist in his foot,
+  Standing there by his mother's door,
+  As if he had taken root!
+
+  She crossed a grave, they say,
+  On a black day in spring,
+  And bore him in the seventh month--
+  A poor, misshapen thing.
+
+  Kneeling down in the dark
+  She travailed without a cry,
+  And gave him the mothering kiss
+  Between the earth and the sky.
+
+  He licks cuckoo-spittle, they say,
+  And eats the dung of the roads,
+  Mocking the journeymen
+  As they pass by with their loads.
+
+  Look at his little face--
+  As grey as wool is grey--
+  And the cast in his green eye,
+  So wild and far away.
+
+  Does he see Magh-meala?
+  Is his breath human breath?
+  Are his thoughts of the hidden things
+  Untouched by time and death?
+
+  Hanging there by the half-door,
+  Dangling his devil's foot,
+  Stock-still on the threshold,
+  As if he had taken root!
+
+
+
+
+I SEE ALL LOVE IN LOWLY THINGS
+
+
+  I see all love in lowly things,
+  No less than in the lusts of kings:
+  All beauty, shape and comeliness,
+  All valour, strength and gentleness,
+  All genius, wit and holiness.
+
+  Out of corruption comes the flower,
+  The corn is kindred with the clay;
+  The plough-hand is a hand of power,
+  Nobler than gold, brighter than day.
+
+  Then let the leper lift his head,
+  The cripple dance, the captive sing,
+  The beggar reap and eat his bread--
+  He is no baser than a king!
+
+
+
+
+'TIS PRETTY TAE BE IN BAILE-LIOSAN
+
+
+  'Tis pretty tae be in Baile-liosan,
+  'Tis pretty tae be in green Magh-luan;
+  'Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda,
+  Beeking under the eaves in June.
+  The cummers are out wi' their knitting and spinning,
+  The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa',
+  And o'er the white road the clachan caddies
+  Play at their marlies and goaling-ba'.
+
+  O, fair are the fields o' Baile-liosan,
+  And fair are the faes o' green Magh-luan;
+  But fairer the flowers o' Newtownbreda,
+  Wet wi' dew in the eves o' June.
+  'Tis pleasant tae saunter the clachan thoro'
+  When day sinks mellow o'er Dubhais hill,
+  And feel their fragrance sae softly breathing
+  Frae croft and causey and window-sill.
+
+  O, brave are the haughs o' Baile-liosan,
+  And brave are the halds o' green Magh-luan;
+  But braver the hames o' Newtownbreda,
+  Twined about wi' the pinks o' June.
+  And just as the face is sae kindly withouten,
+  The heart within is as guid as gold--
+  Wi' new fair ballants and merry music,
+  And cracks cam' down frae the days of old.
+
+  'Tis pretty tae be in Baile-liosan,
+  'Tis pretty tae be in green Magh-luan;
+  'Tis prettier tae be in Newtownbreda,
+  Beeking under the eaves in June.
+  The cummers are out wi' their knitting and spinning,
+  The thrush sings frae his crib on the wa',
+  And o'er the white road the clachan caddies
+  Play at their marlies and goaling-ba'.
+
+
+
+
+CIARAN, THE MASTER OF HORSES AND LANDS
+
+
+  Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,
+  Once had no more than the horn on his hands.
+
+  But Ciaran is rich now, and Ciaran is great,
+  And rides with the air of a squire of estate.
+
+  O Christ! and to see the man up on the back
+  Of a thoroughbred stallion, a bay or a black!
+
+  There's not a horsebreeder from Banna to Laoi
+  Can handle the snaffle so pretty as he!
+
+  And Ciaran, for all, has the wit of a child,
+  A heart just as soft, and an eye just as mild.
+
+  No maker of ballads puts curse at his door:
+  He handsels the singer, and harbours the poor.
+
+  For Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,
+  Once had no more than the horn on his hands.
+
+
+
+
+DEEP WAYS AND DRIPPING BOUGHS
+
+
+  Deep ways and dripping boughs,
+  The fog falling drearily;
+  Cowherds calling on their cows,
+  And I crying wearily,
+  Wearily, wearily, out-a-door,
+  Houseless, hearthless, coatless, kindless,
+  Poorest of the wandering poor.
+
+  I am the beggar Christ--
+  Christ that calmed the castling flood!
+  Cross and thorn have not sufficed
+  To punish me as you would;
+  But out-a-door in wind and rain,
+  Houseless, hearthless, coatless, kindless,
+  You keep me wandering in pain.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT, AND I TRAVELLING
+
+
+  Night, and I travelling.
+  An open door by the wayside,
+  Throwing out a shaft of warm yellow light.
+  A whiff of peat-smoke;
+  A gleam of delf on the dresser within;
+  A woman's voice crooning, as if to a child.
+  I pass on into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT-PIECE
+
+
+  Fill me, O stars,
+  As with an olden tune.
+  Look thro' your cloudy bars,
+  O summer moon;
+  Look thro', and drench in silver light
+  My soul this night.
+
+  O brief, enchanted dream
+  Of sea and sky,
+  Of ploughland, meadow, stream,
+  And twilight loth to die,
+  Of fire and dew--
+  My soul is one with you!
+
+
+
+
+AT MORNING TIDE
+
+
+  At morning tide,
+  Upon the hill of Sliabh-na-mBan,
+  I saw the dead Christ glorified!
+  His body, like the risen sun,
+  Was all too bright to look upon:
+  The blue air burned
+  About him: in his side
+  And hands and feet there shone
+  (Thro' stabs and gashes gaping wide)
+  The golden glory of his blood:
+  The gilly stood
+  Upon his right hand: at his feet
+  The fishers, Peter, James and John,
+  Knelt worshipping
+  With outstretched arms, and eyes
+  To heaven turned:
+  And Maria, his mother sweet,
+  (The partner of his mysteries),
+  And Magdalen and Salome
+  Came thro' the doorway of the day
+  Behind him, weeping.
+  . . . . Then a cloud came o'er
+  My senses, and I saw and heard no more!
+
+
+
+
+THE MAY-FIRE
+
+
+  Come away, O Maire Ban,
+  Come away, come away
+  Where the heads of _ceanabhan_
+  Tremble in the twilight air,
+  And the rushes nod and sway,
+  And no other sound is heard
+  But the swaying of the rushes,
+  And the shouts from Croc-an-air,
+  And the singing of the fidils,
+  And the laughing of the dancers
+  Round about the yellow fire,
+  And the scream of the water-bird.
+
+  Come away, O life of me,
+  O bone of me, O blood of me--
+  Feilim has a tale to tell:
+  He would own his love for thee,
+  Smitten first at Mura's well,
+  Bitten at the Lammas pattern,
+  By the blessed Mura's well.
+  He would tell thee, Maire Ban,
+  How his pulses leap and thrill
+  Quicker than the old men's fidils,
+  Singing out from yonder hill.
+
+  Come away, O heart's desire,
+  From the ruddy-featured circle,
+  From the story-telling circle,
+  By the wreathing Bealtein fire.
+  Come away, come away,
+  Come away, O Maire Ban,
+  Where the heads of _ceanabhan_
+  Tremble in the twilight air,
+  And the voice of love is heard
+  Whispering o'er the bending rushes
+  Like a hidden, holy bird.
+  Come away, O Maire Ban--
+  Feilim's face is fairy-wan,
+  Feilim's heart is sick and pale,
+  Languishing for love of thee.
+
+
+
+
+I LOVE THE DIN OF BEATING DRUMS
+
+
+  I love the din of beating drums,
+  The bellowing pipe, the shrieking fife:
+  The discord and the dissonance is my blood, my breath, my life!
+  The discord and the dissonance is my life!
+
+  Away with flutes and dancing lutes--
+  Such music likes but lovers' ears:
+  Give me the beating battledrum,
+  The gunpeal and the cheers!
+  The bellowing pipe and battledrum,
+  The gunpeal and the cheers!
+
+
+
+
+THREE COLTS EXERCISING IN A SIX-ACRE
+
+
+  Three colts exercising in a six-acre,
+  A hilly sweep of unfenced grass over the road.
+
+  What a picture they make against the skyline!
+  Necks stretched, hocks moving royally, tails flying;
+  Farm-lads up, and they crouching low on their withers.
+
+  I have a journey to go--
+  A lawyer to see, and a paper to sign in the Tontine--
+  But I slacken my pace to watch them.
+
+
+
+
+THE NATURAL
+
+
+  "Lend us the loan of a halfpenny, sir!"--
+  And he passed with his splendid nose in the air.
+
+  A gaunt, grey carcase of skin and bones,
+  As cold as the river, as hard as the stones.
+
+  To him the highway was table and bed,
+  Shift for the newborn and sheet for the dead.
+
+  The wind that blew from Beola crest
+  Seemed fire to fetter his wild unrest.
+
+  The rain that beat on his neck and face,
+  A goad to quicken him in his pace.
+
+  But sorrow a step he changed, and his prayer
+  Was still--"Lend us the loan of a halfpenny, sir!"
+
+
+
+
+ON THE TOP-STONE
+
+
+  On the top-stone.
+  A nipping wind blowing.
+  Winter dusk closing in from the south Ards.
+  The moon rising, white and fantastic, over the loch and the town below.
+  I take off my hat, salute her, and descend into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+THE WOMEN AT THEIR DOORS
+
+
+   The babes were asleep in their cradles,
+   And the day's drudge was done,
+   And the women brought their suppers out
+   To eat them in the sun.
+
+  "To-night I will set my needles, Aine,
+   And Eoghan will have stockings to wear:
+   I spun the wool of the horny ewe
+   He bought at the hiring fair. . . .
+
+  "But what is that sound I hear, Nabla?--
+   It is like the cheering of men.
+   God keep our kind from the devil's snare!"
+   And the women answered, "Amen!"
+
+   Then the moon rose over the valley,
+   And the cheering died away,
+   And the women went within their doors
+   At the mouth of the summer day.
+
+   And no men came in at midnight,
+   And no men came in at the dawn,
+   And the women keened by their ashy fires
+   Till their faces were haggard and wan.
+
+   For they knew they had gone to the trysting
+   With pike and musketoon,
+   To fight for their hearths and altars
+   At the rising of the moon!
+
+
+
+
+MY LITTLE DARK LOVE
+
+
+  My little dark love is a wineberry,
+  As swarth and as sweet, I hold;
+  But as the dew on the wineberry
+  Her heart is a-cold.
+
+  I would her love were as warm as the light
+  That lives in her eye of grey,
+  And then my heart would know the peace
+  It dreams in the hills away.
+
+  I would her love were as red as the rose
+  That blows on her cheek of brown,
+  And then my sunless soul would laugh
+  At the woe that weighs it down.
+
+  She dwells in the valley, my little dark love,
+  Where the river sings to the sea,
+  And an ogham-stone sits by her door,
+  And nigh to it hazels three.
+
+  And oft when the purple twilight comes,
+  And the blind bats flit in the air,
+  I wander down from the quiet hills
+  To seek my sweetheart there.
+
+  But she comes never--she loves not me,
+  Nor ever will love, I hold;
+  For tho' my heart is a peat of fire,
+  Her heart is a-cold!
+
+
+
+
+I HEARD A PIPER PIPING
+
+
+  I heard a piper piping
+  The blue hills among--
+  And never did I hear
+  So plaintive a song.
+
+  It seemed but a part
+  Of the hills' melancholy:
+  No piper living there
+  Could ever be jolly!
+
+  And still the piper piped
+  The blue hills among,
+  And all the birds were quiet
+  To listen to his song.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOUDS GO BY AND BY
+
+
+  The clouds go by and by,
+  The heron sings in the blue--
+  And I lie dreaming, dreaming
+  Ever of you.
+
+  The stag on the hill is free,
+  And the wind is blowing sweet--
+  But I lie bound a prisoner
+  At your feet.
+
+
+
+
+DAVY DAW
+
+
+  Woa! are you there my bonny mare?
+  Your whinny seems to say--
+  "By Bealach forge and Creagach fair
+  We'll gallop hard to-day!"
+  You champ your snaffle all to foam,
+  And fleck your counter bright;
+  But now we bid adieu to home
+  Until the fall of night.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, with his early horn,
+      His hunting-crop and bag of corn--
+      His heart's as merry as a mottle-thrush
+      That sings all day in the hawthorn bush.
+
+  Come hither, Bran of ancient seed,
+  And lick your master's hand;
+  I swear no dog of purer breed
+  Is found in all the land.
+  Brave scion of Cuchullain's branch,
+  Well do you, hound, uphold
+  The prowess and the courage staunch
+  That marked your line of old.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, my merry man,
+      I love toast crab in a pewter can.
+      Our tastes are like as like can be--
+      But a measure of ale in the can for me!
+
+  The wind is low and scent is good,
+  And Mada's on the green:
+  He hid his head in Cratla Wood
+  Since early yestere'en.
+  You beat the bush from peep of light,
+  And set the whins afire;
+  And now the tory is in sight,
+  You've got your heart's desire.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a crab well-browned
+      In the smiling flood of a cruiscin drowned.
+      Give me, sirree, my crab and ale,
+      And bog or batter, my heart won't fail!
+
+  The sun is out, and Davy's up,
+  And hounds are on the run:
+  It's hard he'll earn his stirrup-cup
+  Before the day is done!
+  A jolly life we hunters lead
+  Upon the saddle high:
+  We see no devil in the bead,
+  And drain our noggins dry.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw is a huntsman bold;
+      He's more to me than a kingdom's gold.
+      A hind for dinner and a hare to sup--
+      O that's what I get when Davy's up!
+
+  The fox is fast upon the hill,
+  He's wary in the dale;
+  But I will ride to Penny Mill
+  Before I lose his tail.
+  That brush was born to make a cap
+  For gallant Eoin Og;
+  And I will have it, hang-or-hap,
+  As sure as I'm a rogue.
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, for a morning chase,
+      With an Irish blood to make the pace:
+      He's last to check and first to view,
+      And hard to the death he leads his queue.
+
+  Day in we hunt the spinney fox,
+  Day out the rapparee;
+  _His_ cave is in the broken rocks
+  Above the Correi-buidhe.
+  A shameful thing, the ladies say,
+  To hunt your fellow-man;
+  But follow him till hard at bay
+  It's just the ladies can!
+      Davy Daw, Davy Daw, the brush is won!
+      A good job, sir, our work is done.
+      Whitefoot went lame this side o' the mill,
+      And I'm as dry as an old lime-kiln.
+
+  Red rogue, he'll kill his goose no more:
+  Close work it was, for the light is o'er.
+  Just _close_ work, sir, but the Dub's _close to_,
+  With a can for me and a crab for you!
+
+
+
+
+BLACK SILE OF THE SILVER EYE
+
+
+  As I rode down to Gartan fair
+  I met a girl upon the way:
+  The winter night was on her hair,
+  The summer dawn was in her eye.
+
+  And O, she stepped with such a gait,
+  And bore her round black head so high,
+  And tossed it so, I knew her straight
+  For Sile of the Silver Eye.
+
+  "God save you, Sile, love," says I:
+  "God save you kindly," murmured she--
+  And love was welling in her eye
+  As she dropped me the courtesy.
+
+  The mountain boys upon the road
+  Were at themselves for jealousy
+  When they saw Seamus win the nod
+  From Sile of the Silver Eye.
+
+  We rode together to the fair,
+  We danced together on the green;
+  And, faith, they say a suppler pair
+  Was ne'er before a piper seen.
+
+  Black Sile of the Silver Eye
+  Has been my wife for twenty year,
+  And still her sloe-black head is high,
+  And still her eye is silver clear.
+
+  And, God be praised, we have a girl,
+  As like her as like well can be--
+  The round black head, the roguish curl,
+  The soft tongue and the silver eye.
+
+  God bless the old, God bless the new,
+  And send them stout posterity--
+  Old Sile and young Sile, too--
+  Both "Sile of the Silver Eye!"
+
+
+
+
+A SHEEPDOG BARKS ON THE MOUNTAIN
+
+
+  A sheepdog barks on the mountain,
+  The night is fallen cold;
+  The shepherd blinks at his fire,
+  The sheep are in the fold.
+
+  The moon comes white and quiet
+  Into the winter sky;
+  And nothing walks the valley
+  To-night but you and I.
+
+
+
+
+DEAD OAKLEAVES EVERYWHERE
+
+
+  Dead oakleaves everywhere
+  Under my feet,
+  Filling the forest air
+  With odours sweet.
+
+  Acorns, three, four and five,
+  Falling apace.
+  Thank God I am alive
+  This day of grace!
+
+
+
+
+A NIGHT PRAYER
+
+
+  Pray for me, Seachnal,
+  Pray for me, Mel:
+  Save me from sin
+  And the cold stone of hell!
+
+  Brigid and Ita
+  And Eithne the Red,
+  Spread out your mantles
+  And cover my bed!
+
+  For rann and gospel
+  Have gone from my mind,
+  And devils are walking
+  Abroad in the wind!
+
+
+
+
+I AM THE MOUNTAINY SINGER
+
+
+  I am the mountainy singer,
+  And I would sing of the Christ
+  Who followed the paths thro' the mountains
+  To eat at the people's tryst.
+
+  He loved the sun-dark people
+  As the young man loves his bride,
+  And he moved among their thatches,
+  And for them he was crucified.
+
+  And the people loved him, also,
+  More than their houses or lands,
+  For they had known his pity
+  And felt the touch of his hands.
+
+  And they dreamed with him in the mountains,
+  And they walked with him on the sea,
+  And they prayed with him in the garden,
+  And bled with him on the tree.
+
+  Not ever by longing and dreaming
+  May they come to him now,
+  But by the thorns of sorrow
+  That bruised his kingly brow.
+
+
+
+
+THE RAINBOW SPANNING A PLANET SHOWER
+
+
+  The rainbow spanning a planet shower,
+  The sloe in berry, the flax in flower.
+
+  The scholar's satchel, the beggar's staff,
+  The ploughman's whistle, the tinker's laugh.
+
+  The stranded hooker, the breaking wave,
+  The sunrise gilding the carn of Medb.
+
+  The strength of mountains, the swiftness of wind
+  Blowing over the leagues behind.
+
+  The hot lips sealing the spoken word,
+  The song in gentle places heard.
+
+  The wildgoose trumpeting in the blue,
+  The postcar stuck in a drift of snow.
+
+  The bogslide moving, the seaward leap,
+  The cry, the townland whelmed in sleep.
+
+  The sock on the anvil, the thread in the loom,
+  The Host on the altar, the child in the womb.
+
+  The wayside murder, the whispered name,
+  The hanging body, the hidden shame.
+
+  And more--if you but listen and look--
+  In this, my elemental book!
+
+
+
+
+I WILL GO WITH MY FATHER A-PLOUGHING
+
+
+  I will go with my father a-ploughing
+  To the green field by the sea,
+  And the rooks and the crows and the seagulls
+  Will come flocking after me.
+  I will sing to the patient horses
+  With the lark in the white of the air,
+  And my father will sing the plough-song
+  That blesses the cleaving share.
+
+  I will go with my father a-sowing
+  To the red field by the sea,
+  And the rooks and the gulls and the starlings
+  Will come flocking after me.
+  I will sing to the striding sowers
+  With the finch on the greening sloe,
+  And my father will sing the seed-song
+  That only the wise men know.
+
+  I will go with my father a-reaping
+  To the brown field by the sea,
+  And the geese and the crows and the children
+  Will come flocking after me.
+  I will sing to the tanfaced reapers
+  With the wren in the heat of the sun,
+  And my father will sing the scythe-song
+  That joys for the harvest done.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHINING SPACES OF THE SOUTH
+
+
+  The shining spaces of the south,
+  The circle of the year, the sea,
+  The blowing rose, the maiden's mouth,
+  The love, the hate, the ecstasy,
+  The golden wood, the shadowed stream,
+  The dew, the light, the wind, the rain,
+  The man's desire, the woman's dream,
+  The bed embrace, the childing pain,
+  The sound of music heard afar,
+  The breathing grass, the broken sod,
+  The sun, the moon, the twilight star--
+  Do all proclaim the mind of God.
+  Then why should I, who am but clay,
+  Think otherwise, or answer nay?
+
+
+
+
+LIKE A TUFT OF CEANABHAN
+
+
+  Like a tuft of _ceanabhan_
+  Blowing in the wind
+  Is my slender Aine Ban--
+  White and soft and kind.
+
+  Kind her heart is, but her clann's
+  Cold as clay or stone.
+  Would that I had herds and lands
+  To take her for my own!
+
+
+
+
+THE HERB-LEECH
+
+
+  I have gathered _luss_
+  At the wane of the moon,
+  And supped its sap
+  With a yewen spoon.
+  I have sat a spell
+  By the carn of Medb,
+  And smelt the mould
+  Of the red queen's grave.
+  I have dreamed a dearth
+  In the darkened sun,
+  And felt the hand
+  Of the Evil One.
+  I have fathomed war
+  In the comet's tail,
+  And heard the crying
+  Of Gall and Gael.
+  I have seen the spume
+  On the dead priest's lips,
+  And the "holy fire"
+  On the spars of ships;
+  And the shooting stars
+  On Barthelmy's Night,
+  Blanching the dark
+  With ghostly light;
+  And the corpse-candle
+  Of the seer's dream,
+  Bigger in girth
+  Than a weaver's beam;
+  And the shy hearth-fairies
+  About the grate,
+  Blowing the turves
+  To a whiter heat.
+  All things on earth
+  To me are known,
+  For I have the gift
+  Of the Murrain Stone!
+
+
+
+
+WHO BUYS LAND
+
+
+  Who buys land buys many stones,
+  Who buys flesh buys many bones;
+  Who buys eggs buys many shells,
+  Who buys love buys nothing else.
+
+  Love is a burr upon the floor,
+  Love is a thief behind the door;
+  Who loves leman for her breath
+  May quench his fire and cry for death!
+
+  Love is a bridle, love is a load,
+  Love is a thorn upon the road;
+  Love is the fly that flits its hour,
+  Love is the shining venom-flower.
+
+  Love is a net, love is a snare,
+  Love is a bubble blown with air;
+  Love starts hot, and waning cold,
+  Is withered in the grave's mould!
+
+
+
+
+THE POET LOOSED A WINGED SONG
+
+
+  The poet loosed a winged song
+  Against the hulk of England's wrong.
+  Were poisoned words at his command,
+  'Twould not avail for Ireland.
+
+  The soldier lifted up a sword,
+  And on the hills in battle poured
+  His life-blood like an ebbing sea--
+  And still we pine for liberty.
+
+  The friar spoke his bitter hope,
+  And danced upon the gallows rope.
+  Were he to dance that dance again
+  A hundred times, 'twould be in vain.
+
+  Christ save us! only thou canst save!
+  The nation staggers to the grave.
+  Can genius, valour, faith be given,
+  And win no recompense of heaven?
+
+  No, Christ! by Ireland's martyrs, no!
+  'Twas not for this we suffered so.
+  Die, die again on Calvary tree,
+  If needs be, Christ, to set us free!
+                To set us free!
+
+
+
+
+SIC TRANSIT
+
+
+  I lit my tallow
+  An hour ago,
+  And now it is burning
+  Dark and low.
+
+  The glimmer lengthens
+  And turns about,
+  Sinks in the sconce--
+  Then flickers out!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Mountainy Singer, by Seosamh MacCathmhaoil
+
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