General Chat

Haven't got a poem to add at the moment but I thought I would give this a nudge up in case there are any new posters with favourite poems

"Cill Aodáin" by blind poet Antoine Ó Raifteiri (1779-1835).

Now coming of the Spring
the day will be lengthening,
and after St. Bridget's Day
I shall raise my sail.
Since I put it into my head.

I shall never stay put
until I shall stand down
in the center of County Mayo.
In Claremorris' family.

I will be the first night,
and in the wall on the side below it
I will begin to drink.
to Kiltimagh (Magh's Woods) I shall go.

until I shall make a month's visit there
two miles close to Aghamore.
------------------------
An Irish translation:

Anois teacht an earraigh
beidh an lá ag dul chun síneadh,
Is tar éis na féil Bríde
ardóidh mé mo sheol.
Ó chuir mé i mo cheann é

ní chónóidh me choíche
Go seasfaidh mé síos
i lár Chontae Mhaigh Eo.
I gClár Chlainne Mhuiris.

A bheas mé an chéad oíche,
Is i mballa taobh thíos de
A thosaigh mé ag ól.
Go Coillte Mách rachaidh.

Go ndéanfadh cuairt mhíosa ann
I bhfogas dhá mhíle
Do Bhéal an Átha Mhóir.

HAIL, GLORIOUS ST. PATRICK
(words: Sister Agnes / tune: ancient Irish melody, 1920)

Hail, glorious St. Patrick, dear saint of our isle,
On us thy poor children bestow a sweet smile;
And now thou art high in the mansions above,
On Erin's green valleys look down in thy love.

On Erin's green valleys, on Erin's green valleys,
On Erin's green valleys look down in thy love.

Hail, glorious St. Patrick, thy words were once strong
Against Satan's wiles and a heretic throng;
Not less is thy might where in Heaven thou art;
Oh, come to our aid, in our battle take part!

In a war against sin, in the fight for the faith,
Dear Saint, may thy children resist to the death;
May their strength be in meekness, in penance, and prayer,
Their banner the Cross, which they glory to bear.

Thy people, now exiles on many a shore,
Shall love and revere thee till time be no more;
And the fire thou hast kindled shall ever burn bright,
Its warmth undiminished, undying its light.

Ever bless and defend the sweet land of our birth,
Where the shamrock still blooms as when thou wert on earth,
And our hearts shall yet burn, wherever we roam,
For God and St. Patrick, and our native home.

*Happy St Patrick's Day for tomorrow!*

THE DONKEY (by G.K. Chesterton 1874 - 1936)

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

Absolutely brilliant to have this site back. Here's my contribution.

This is in memory of our beloved Millie-dog whom we lost a week ago to cancer.

If it should be that I grow frail and weak, and pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done, for this last battle can't be won,
You will be sad I understand, but don't let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day more than the rest, your love and friendship must stand the test,
We have had so many happy years, what is to come can hold no fears,
You wouldn't want me to suffer, so, when the time comes please let me go,
Take me to where my needs they'll tend, only, stay with me until the end,
Hold me firm and speak to me, until my eyes no longer see,
I know in time you will agree It is a kindness that you do for me, although my tail it's last has waved from pain and suffering I've been saved,
Please don't grieve that it must be you who had to decide this thing to do,, we've been SO close, we two, these years, don't let your heart hold any tears.

We did stay with her until the end in our own home, and have shed many many tears but she was a very sick little dog, and I know we did the right thing. Millie is now buried in the garden under the hedge where she spent many happy hours just poking about!!

Magpie - a lovely heart-rending piece.

What a lovely piece Magpie. It will strike a chord with so many people

Thank you - It just hit the spot with me and summed up exactly how OH and I f felt.

How is this for a coincidence? I have just received an email from a friend in Canada. She is 82 and lives alone and has just had to have her beloved cat put to sleep. I've copied your poem out Magpie and sent it to her. It may give her a little comfort.

Dermot, The Donkey brought back memories for me as I had to recite that when I was about 13 at a church musical festival. :-)

Oh, that's great SuffolkVera. I'm sorry about your friends cat and I hope the poem brings her some comfort. Ann, I learned The Donkey' as well, at school; I've always loved it, although 'the devils walking parody' always seemed to be to be a bit of a tough description of these lovely stoic creatures!!!

Loveliest of the trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a sore,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

A Shopshire lad - A.E.Housman.

Missed So Dearly.

Missed in the morning of every day.
Missed in the evening as the light fades away.
Missed in a thousand & one little ways,
Around every corner a memory stays.

No one knows the pain we bear;
When we meet & you’re not there.
We talk, we laugh & we play our part.
But behind it all lie many broken hearts.

You gave us years of happiness.
Then sorrow came with tears.
You left us lovely memories,
We will treasure them through the years.

(Words penned by a colleague in honour of her late uncle.)

I recently went to a talk about the poet Edward Thomas; someone I hadn't come across before. This very short poem seemed appropriate at a time when we are remembering WW1.

In Memoriam (Easter, 1915)

The flowers left thick at nightfall in the wood
This Eastertide call into mind the men,
Now far from home, who, with their sweethearts, should
Have gathered them and will do never again.

Another one of Edward Thomas. (Adlestrop is a village in Gloucestershire). There is a recording of Richard Burton reading this on:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0J1Ze5QXG8.


Adlestrop

Yes, I remember Adlestrop --
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop -- only the name

And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.

And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire

Goodness, there are some lovely poems here, so full of feeling - Here's one more short offering from Siefried Sasoon.

You smugfaced crowds
With kindling eye,
Who cheer when soldier lads go by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

Vera I love that poem

'In a really just cause, the weak conquers the strong'.

(Sophocles - an ancient Greek tragedian.)

It was the best of times and the worst of times.... Tales to two cities

Somewhere above my little dog waits,
She patiently sits at the glittering gate,
Her eyes once clouded are glistening and clear,
Her ears long deaf prick when my voice she hears,
When she sees me she'll bound high and low,
On legs that used to be stiff and slow.
Instead of a collar she wears a circle of light,
She'll welcome me home, all things will be right.