 | At the holy well |  |
9
AT THE HOLY WELL.
LADY'S DAY, 1885.
Across yon hill-top, half a league away,
Weird with its immemorial vine, on high
The Round Tower lifts its walls of dateless day—
A solitary finger in the sky.
Weird with its immemorial vine, on high
The Round Tower lifts its walls of dateless day—
A solitary finger in the sky.
Near by, vague clumps of ruin ivy-grown,
With grave-mounds on the slope about them—look!
Patrick was preaching when they laid the stone,
Gray priests who late their Druid rites forsook.
With grave-mounds on the slope about them—look!
Patrick was preaching when they laid the stone,
Gray priests who late their Druid rites forsook.
10
Here in this upland space of pasture-ground,
Our Lady's Well pours forth its waters pure
While groups of pious pilgrims kneel around,
With ills of flesh or spirit, who seek their cure.
Our Lady's Well pours forth its waters pure
While groups of pious pilgrims kneel around,
With ills of flesh or spirit, who seek their cure.
Beneath an ash tree's boughs it flows to-day,
With flood perennial and crystal-clear:
The Virgin close beside, in sculpture gray;
The Man of Sorrows, on His Cross, is here.
With flood perennial and crystal-clear:
The Virgin close beside, in sculpture gray;
The Man of Sorrows, on His Cross, is here.
Among the restless leaves, breeze-lifted, lo!—
Mute witnesses of many an August sun—
The abandoned staff, the votive garment show
Their grateful signs of blessing sought and won.
Mute witnesses of many an August sun—
The abandoned staff, the votive garment show
Their grateful signs of blessing sought and won.
Through the green fields, by many a dusty way,
The rich, the poor, the sick, the blind, the dumb—
Ragged or bare, in silks or frieze (as they
For fifteen hundred years have come)—they come.
The rich, the poor, the sick, the blind, the dumb—
Ragged or bare, in silks or frieze (as they
For fifteen hundred years have come)—they come.
11
Ay, year by year as now, on Lady's Day,
Singly, in household groups—where'er they dwell—
To bathe in, drink its healing lymph, and pray,
These Irish pilgrims seek the Holy Well.
Singly, in household groups—where'er they dwell—
To bathe in, drink its healing lymph, and pray,
These Irish pilgrims seek the Holy Well.
The blind one sees? The lame his crutch foregoes?
The bedridden walks? The pang of sense finds rest?
To the wan cheek climbs back the unblighted rose?
The new heart throbs and warms the hollow breast?
The bedridden walks? The pang of sense finds rest?
To the wan cheek climbs back the unblighted rose?
The new heart throbs and warms the hollow breast?
O simple souls! whom Science has not taught
Her earth-lore vain for Truth Ineffable:
For your belief such wonder-works are wrought,
And common day grows quick with miracle!
Her earth-lore vain for Truth Ineffable:
For your belief such wonder-works are wrought,
And common day grows quick with miracle!
Lady's Well, Aghada, County Cork.
| At the holy well | |