Ist - Thanks jjorge for the personal invite to Irish poetry. I used to say about myself that I am American by birth, _______by heritage, Russian by temperament, and Irish by choice.
Any people who can produce a malt whisky like the Irish, can't be all bad.
Five good reasons for drinking: go wine, a friend , or feeling dry,
or lest you might be by and by, or any other reason why.
As the Irish comedian Hal Roach says, "The only reason the Irish drink is to forget they're alcoholics."
I spent a week in Ireland this past summer. It's unique. It's endearing. It's beautiful. And, it can be somewhat grim. All at the same time.
Please. Its Irish humor.
(Columbo, poking his head back in the door)
"Oh yeh, just one more thing . . . ."
http://slate.msn.com/id/2081596/
hey I'm 16/f/ireland I live in dublin it been good reading some of the poems in this topic. Here one by yeats sorry if its alreday been posted
The Stolen Child
by William Butler Yeats
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen chetries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you
can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,.
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For to world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you.
Welcome to the Able2Know Lush!
Lush, welcome to the thread. Where in Dublin are you?
I'll be coming to your fair isle in a few weeks. Could you do anything about the weather before I arrive?
Welcome lush,
great post, I've never seen this poem before. What do you like about it?
Joe
Hi Lush!
Welcome to A2k. Glad you've enjoyed the poems. I think you'll like
it here. There are a lot of friendly funny and intelligent people.
(alas I may be only one of those things
)
Thanks for posting 'The Stolen Child'. I liked it a lot.
Thanks alot for the welcome everybody.
Answers to questions.
Kara I live in Lucan it a suburb on the edge of dublin almost in between dublin and kildare really. If I could do anything about the weather I'd have done it a long time ago I suggest u bring a coat.
Joe I like the imagry and lanugage in the poem and the way it seems the child is leaving behind a place that wont be missed all the way up until the final verse were it changes to something slightly sinster
(jjorge to himself) hmmm ...how do I get out of this one?
jjorge, this has been a nice experience, reading Irish poets. You are a very nice poet yourself, I find, as I read in this topic and the poetry written "in originality".
I was not here at Saint Patricks day, but I have an irish poem for you:
Be Still As You are Beautiful
Be still as you are beautiful,
Be silent as the rose;
Through miles of starlit countryside
Unspoken worship flows
To find you in your loveless room
From lonely men whom daylight gives
The blessing of your passing face
Impenetrably grave.
A white owl in the lichened wood
Is circling silently,
More secret and more silent yet
Must be your love to me.
Thus, while about my dreaming head
Your soul in ceaseless vigil goes,
Be still as you are beautiful,
Be silent as the rose.
Patrick MacDonogh
Hi Rose,
Welcome to A2K!
Nice to meet you. Thanks for the kind words about the thread.
re my poetry:
I told people here that I didn't consider myself a poet, but rather an 'aspirant'.
Someone ( Letty, I think) then said: 'take two aspirants and call me in the morning'
Tommy wrote:Hello there everyone. Could I give you a little history lesson about the town in which my father was born? And there's a bit of a poem afterwards.
(BTW Margo thanks for notifying me of this thread)
Yes, he was born in the village of Kanturk in County Cork. Kanturk in Irish is Ceann Toirc which means "The Boar's Head". Legend has it that the last boar in Ireland was killed here. Kanturk lies at the confluence of the Dalua and Allua rivers so you may take it that there are a couple of bridges in the town.
The town belonged to the family of Dermod McOwen. The lands around the town once belonged to the McCarthy Clan up until the time of Cromwell.
Anyway around about 1600 Dermod McOwen/McCarthy, decided to build a dwelling on the site of an old castle outside the town, but the Privy Council in London on learning that he was building a "regular fortress" - "a house much too large for a subject" - ordered him to stop. Naturally he was very cross about this and there are two stories about the blue glass tiles that McCarthy was going to roof the castle with. Firstly, the tiles never arrived in Kanturk in the first place - the carters stopped for refreshment in Mallow, a town about ten miles away, on their journey from England, got completely sozzled and smashed all the tiles. Secondly, McCarthy, on hearing about the stop put on his building, got into a rage, smashed them all up and threw them into a pool in the river, below the Dalau Bridge, in the town. Hence the name of that part of the river which is known as "The Blue Pool" until this day.
Now I'm getting to the poetry part, and thank you for your patience.
In 1760, the Landlord of the Town, My Lord, the Earl of Egmont ordered that a stone bridge be built over the Dalau River. It consisted of six arches and on top of the bridge wall were placed six polished limestone coping stones. On the northern piers of the bridge were inset niches with seating accommodation for weary travellers or courting couples. On each of the polished limestone coping stones was engraved a verse as follows:
(These are the Coping Stones talking - (you should forgive me stating the obvious))
I, from my womb on Windmill Hill*
Great Egmont's order to fulfill
Was brought with seven of my race
His Lordship's honoured town to grace.
Secured from surly wind and rain
The gentle nymph and amorous swain
May here their tender vows repaeat
Which I shall surely ne'er relate.
Hence Bluepools waving groves delight
Amuse the fancy, please the sight
And give such joy as may arise
Friom sylvan scene and azure skies.
See Kanturk Castle and Fermoyle
Retreats of Perceval and Boyle+
Illustrious in their country's cause
And guardians of its rights and laws.
See Dalau roll its flood along
And Allau famed in Spenser's Song
Where lordly swans in wanton pride
Expand their plumes to stem the tide.
The weary here in safe repose
Forgetting life's attendant woes,
May sit secure, serene and still.
And view with joy yon famed hill.#
*The Quarry on Windwill Hikll is the womb.
+Early Clan Chiefs of Cork.
#O'Donovans Hill - which can be seen from the Bridge.
(With grateful thanks to Seamus O'Mahoney and Patrick O'Sullivan)
Good man Tommy. I am a native of Kanturk who has left the green shores. I haven't heard those verses in a long time. Well done for digging them up. Luckily i stumbled upon this forum.
I was thinking about the 8 stones. The verses are on the 6 coping stones on the walls of the bridge, If I remember correctly, there are 2 large square stones on the walls of the bridge in the centre facing each other. These are inscribed with a history of the bridge and some quotes if i remember rightly. Maybe they were the other 2 stones?
Under 1 of the arches of the bridge is a little doorway in the side of the wall. I don't know why it's there, but it was a very useful camp when i was growing up. The archway led into a little room, and a little hole in the wall of that room led into another room.
"See Dalau roll its flood along
And Allau famed in Spenser's Song
Where lordly swans in wanton pride
Expand their plumes to stem the tide."
That's where the rivers get their names. Ealla is the gaelic for swan. There are still swans there today as far as i know.
I would recommend it for a short visit, but it isn't a very touristy town like Blarney and Killarney, so it isn't as well equipped. There are plenty of B&B's and some hotels.
For Margo and others. The NPR show on radio is called The Thistle And Shamrock...and it is produced in South Carolina. The show airs at different times, but here on Saturday nights. Very good Celtic music.
ceanntoirc, is Kanturk worth a visit?
What is notable aside you bein born there?
I have been slow to explore such venues being as I have a cottage in Connemara and the weather is always grand there. :wink:
Do you go back to visit?
(Gaelic:
Siúil, siúil, siúil a ruin
Siúil go sochair agus siúil go ciuin
Siúil go doras agus ealaigh liom
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan
Phonetic:
shule, shule, shule, a roon
shule go soccer agus, shule go kyoon
shule go dorrus agus aylee (or aylig) lum
iss go jay too mavoorneen slah)
SIUIL A RUIN
I wish I were on yonder hill
'Tis there I'd sit and I'd cry my fill,
And ev'ry tear would turn a mill,
And a blessing walk with you, my love
( Or this for last line of every verse: Iss go jay too mavoorneen slahn.)
His hair was black and his eyes were blue
His arms were strong and his words were true
I wish in my heart that I were with you
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
Chorus:
Shule, shule, shule aroon
Shule go succir agus, shule go kewn;
Shule go dheen durrus oggus aylig lume,
And a blessing walk with you, my love.
I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel
I'll sell my only spinning wheel
To by my love a sword of steel
And a blessing walk with you, my love
Then the king, he was forced to flee
Took my love across the sea
I wish in my heart he were here with me
And a blessing walk with you, my love
I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red
And 'round the world I'll beg my bread,
Until my parents shall wish me dead
And a blessing walk with you, my love
Come, come, come O love,
Quickly come to me, softly move,
Come to the door and away we'll flee,
And safe forever may my darling be.
Optional verses:
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I had my heart again,
And vainly think I'd not complain
And a blessing walk with you, my love
But now my love has gone to France
To try his fortune to advance.
If he e'er come back, 'tis but a chance
And a blessing walk with you, my love
When I first heard the song, I heard the alternate verses, from some Newfoundland singers. The folk tradition fascinates me.
Bravo, 
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