Poetry

“There are no graves here.
These mountains and plains are a cradle and a stepping stone.
Whenever you pass by the field
where you have laid your ancestors
look well thereupon,
and you shall see yourselves and your children
dancing hand in hand.”
-Kahlil Gibran




“What do you make so fair and bright?
“I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O, Lovely to see in all men’s sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men’s sight.

“What do you build with sails for flight?
“I build a boat for Sorrow,
O, swift on the seas all day and night
Saileth the rover Sorrow,
All day and night.

“What do you weave with wool so white?
“I weave the shoes of Sorrow,
Soundless shall be the footfall light
In all men’s ears of Sorrow,
Sudden and light.”
W. B. Yeats




“Shine on our land, Jehovah, shine
With beams of heav’nly grace,
Reveal thy pow’r through all our coasts
And show they smiling face.

Now only you can save the earth
By banding all as one,
The pow’r of God lives in us all
And strong we shall become.”
Isaac Watts 1674-1748




“Sweet is the work, my God, my king,
to praise Thy name give thanks and sing,
To show Thy love by morning light
and talk of all Thy trust at night.

Sweet is the day of sacred rest
no mortal care shall seize my breast,
Oh may my heart in tune be found,
like David’s harp of solemn sound.”
- Isaac Watts




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I don’t have many books with me, but in these words I have found precious solace. The misery along the sea coasts weighs heavy, I walk twice burdened by life’s sorrow this New Years day.
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“...look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.”
-Kahlil Gibran



“We who are old, old and gay,
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years
If all were told:

Give to these children, new from the world,
Silence and love;
And the long dew-dropping hours of the night,
And the stars above:

Give to these children, new from the world,
Rest far from men.
Is anything better, anything better?
Tell us it then:

Us who are old, old and gay:
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years,
If all were told.”
-W. B. Yeats

Sung by the people of faery over Diarmuid and Grania, who lay in their bridal sleep under a Cromlech.