Dirge for Aoine and other poems by Nora Chesson [i.e. Nora Hopper] |
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LAMENT OF THE LAY BROTHER (A.D. 598)
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 | Dirge for Aoine and other poems |  |
xxiv
LAMENT OF THE LAY BROTHER (A.D. 598)
Dedicated to Caroline Augusta Hopper
Iona, O Iona!
My days go sad and slow,
For mid your island meadows
I hear no cattle low.
I miss the fields of Kerry,
The green fields and the kine,
And in my brothers' chanting
Is heard no voice of mine—
Iona, O Iona!
My days go sad and slow,
For mid your island meadows
I hear no cattle low.
I miss the fields of Kerry,
The green fields and the kine,
And in my brothers' chanting
Is heard no voice of mine—
Iona, O Iona!
Iona, O Iona!
My mates are glad of cheer,
But I, the Kerry peasant,
Dwell sad and lonely here.
I send an exile's sighing
Across the sundering sea;
O would I were in Kerry,
Or the kine were here with me!
My mates are glad of cheer,
But I, the Kerry peasant,
Dwell sad and lonely here.
I send an exile's sighing
Across the sundering sea;
O would I were in Kerry,
Or the kine were here with me!
Iona, O Iona!
The Saint sleeps well, I trow,
Nor dreams that one poor brother's
Heartbroke for Ireland now—
Heartbroke to be a herd-boy
And watch the cattle feed,
And call the cattle homewards
Across the darkening mead.
The Saint sleeps well, I trow,
Nor dreams that one poor brother's
Heartbroke for Ireland now—
xxv
And watch the cattle feed,
And call the cattle homewards
Across the darkening mead.
Iona, O Iona!
All summer swallows stay
About your towers: the sea-gulls
To Ireland take their way.
And would, I cry with weeping,
The sea-gulls' road were mine—
To hear the cattle lowing
And see their eyes with mine,
Iona, O Iona!
All summer swallows stay
About your towers: the sea-gulls
To Ireland take their way.
And would, I cry with weeping,
The sea-gulls' road were mine—
To hear the cattle lowing
And see their eyes with mine,
Iona, O Iona!
| Dirge for Aoine and other poems | |