Ghost-bereft With other stories and studies in verse: By Jane Barlow |
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IV
It's many a trouble slips by us wid only a hairs-breadth between:
Just a word 'ud ha' kep' her that mornin', but now thro' black night we might keen,
And she'll heed us no more than yon rock in the foam heeds the saygull's cry.
There was some of the lads was as plased to be goin' as young birds to fly,
And discoorsin' of all they'd a chance to be seein'; but Norah 'd ha' stayed
If we'd bid her, and welcome. I'm thinkin' the crathur was three parts afraid,
Travellin' off all her lone. And what tuk her to go was her mind bein' bent
To earn us a trifle would help when the cold come agin us, and the rent;
And she'd talk of the full of me pipe, and her mother's odd grain of tay,
But we knew she'd be starved if she stayed, so, God guide us, we let her away.
Just a word 'ud ha' kep' her that mornin', but now thro' black night we might keen,
And she'll heed us no more than yon rock in the foam heeds the saygull's cry.
There was some of the lads was as plased to be goin' as young birds to fly,
And discoorsin' of all they'd a chance to be seein'; but Norah 'd ha' stayed
If we'd bid her, and welcome. I'm thinkin' the crathur was three parts afraid,
Travellin' off all her lone. And what tuk her to go was her mind bein' bent
To earn us a trifle would help when the cold come agin us, and the rent;
And she'd talk of the full of me pipe, and her mother's odd grain of tay,
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And the last thing she done, she went round wid meself to our bit of ould shed,
Where the black hin was hatchin' her clutch, and she seen if the crathur'd been fed.
So the two of us stood lookin' over the wall, while she picked up her bit,
Thinkin' different things. And says Norah: ‘She's better than ten days to sit;
But afore I've the chance to get home, 'tis grand chucks they'll be growin', plase God.’
Och, that come in me thoughts when I seen them this mornin' about on the sod,
Half a score of them, peckin' and pipin' and skytin' all manner of ways,
Wid th' ould hin stumpin' on thro' the lot of them, high-fut, as proud as you plase.
For thinks I: ‘Sure them scuts of black balls might ha' time to swell up by our door
To the size of the aigles that roost in the clouds and the sun on Slievemore,
Ere we'll see Norah home; ay, she's drowned in the say lyin' bright there and blue'—
So I thought in me mind, but I felt in me heart that it couldn't be true.
Where the black hin was hatchin' her clutch, and she seen if the crathur'd been fed.
So the two of us stood lookin' over the wall, while she picked up her bit,
Thinkin' different things. And says Norah: ‘She's better than ten days to sit;
But afore I've the chance to get home, 'tis grand chucks they'll be growin', plase God.’
Och, that come in me thoughts when I seen them this mornin' about on the sod,
Half a score of them, peckin' and pipin' and skytin' all manner of ways,
Wid th' ould hin stumpin' on thro' the lot of them, high-fut, as proud as you plase.
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To the size of the aigles that roost in the clouds and the sun on Slievemore,
Ere we'll see Norah home; ay, she's drowned in the say lyin' bright there and blue'—
So I thought in me mind, but I felt in me heart that it couldn't be true.
| Ghost-bereft | |