Sprays of Shamrock Part 6

We fared by Abbeydorney, Listowel and Lixnaw, Where all my word was wisdom, and all my look was law.

We never paused to bivouac; we never paused to sleep Where murmurous Feale Water ran shallow or ran deep.

We swam the swirl of Shannon; we hurled back to his lair The bl.u.s.tering O'Brien who ruled the kerns of Claire.

Then, mire and foam-bespattered, about the dusk of day We came where Galway's turrets loomed over Galway's bay.

The silence throbbed with trumpets, tumultuous, elate, And you, a flower of wonder, bloomed in the castle gate.

You made the flush of sunset seem but a pallid thing; Your voice had all the rapture that trembles through the spring.

Within your eyes the love-light was glory after drouth; All summer's h.o.a.rded honey was one kiss from your mouth.

Deirdre, whose tragic beauty the great Cuchullin knew, And Maeve, the long lamented, sooth, what were they to you!

In through the rush-strewn hallway you led us to the feast; And when the wine was drunken there stood the stoled priest.

He oped the holy bride-book; he read the marriage rite; And then--and then--mavourneen, it was our wedding night!

Would I might dream it over, the dream I dreamed yestreen, That I was King in Kerry, and you were Galway's Queen!

A KERRY LAD

There 's a Kerry lad a-wandering across the dipping sea, A Kerry lad a-wandering the foam, And oh, the swelling joy of it, the joy that there will be When that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

There 'll be glad voices calling him, glad voices in the street, And hands to clasp the hands of the gossoon; There 'll be soft winds a-whispering above the fields of peat, And little birds a-carolling in tune!

The Kerry sky 'll be bluer then, for all the clouds will part, And greener 'll be the gra.s.s above the loam, And oh, the happy feeling in one lonely Irish heart When that wandering Kerry lad comes home!

A KERRY DAY

Under the sweep of a fell the smoke-reek curls and drifts Where a white-walled cottage stands nestling amid the green; Kerry skies above arched with their azure rifts Where a glint of sun peeps through to brighten the peaceful scene.

Cattle stand at graze, and there are the piles of peat, And there is the swift Feale Water rimpling, dimpling away; And there are the c.o.c.ks of hay, and the smell of the hay is sweet, And this is the round and sum of a quiet Kerry day!

A KERRY ROAD

Snow of the blackberry bloom, purple of heather bells, The fir and the oak tree boughs with the ivy round them twining; Sheen of a distant lake, brown of the dipping fells, Racing clouds overhead, and the fitful sun a-s.h.i.+ning!

Bracken and thorn and whin, and somewhere a cheeping bird; Pits of peat, and, then, a cart with its cheery load; In from Dingle Bay the wind with its ancient word; On and up and on--and this is a Kerry road!

A KERRY GARDEN

There 's a garden that slopes to the south and the sun, A garden in Kerry I know, Where the poppy 's a-bloom, and the red roses run O'er the wall, and the pampas-plume's streamers seem spun Of the floss of the moon in the dusk watches won, And the lake is a-s.h.i.+mmer below.

There 's a garden that 's fair, be it day, be it night, A garden in Kerry I know, And never an orient dream of delight Can match with this garden so sweet to my sight, For here is heart's home to a wandering wight,-- It calls me wherever I go!

DOWN IN KERRY

Down in Kerry maids are merry, Down in Kerry maids are fair; Laughin' eyes an' lips o' cherry From Feale Water to Kenmare!

Sunny weather in the heather, Sunny weather everywhere, Be but man an' maid together From Feale Water to Kenmare!

Care a-sheddin', naught a-dreadin', With just one my steps to share, That 's the road that I 'd be treadin'

From Feale Water to Kenmare!

HOLY WELLS

At Toberaribba, Sooth, what do you think, 'T is not holy water They go for to drink!

At Tobernanavin, As sure as you 're born, There 's dancing and prancing And juice of the corn!

At Tobernacerta, They sport on the green; There 's laughing and chaffing, And lots of poteen!

At Tobernaglashy, With moss at the brink, There 's much holy water, But not for to drink!

LOW TIDE

The sun on the reeds an' rushes, An' the sand outstretched before, An' the sun on the kelp an' s.h.i.+ngle Away off Galway sh.o.r.e.