 | Dirge for Aoine and other poems |  |
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ST. PATRICK'S BLESSINGS
Have you heard of good St. Patrick how once he went his way
East and west through Ireland for many a night and day,
North and south through Ireland? and everywhere he trod
The world was better for his feet, and greener was the sod.
East and west through Ireland for many a night and day,
North and south through Ireland? and everywhere he trod
The world was better for his feet, and greener was the sod.
He saw the dark seals swimming in waters of the west,
He lifted up his hands to heaven and all their tribes he blessed;
He saw the wicked butcher-birds that their own comrades slew,
And none the less he blessed them, for “they know not what they do.”
He lifted up his hands to heaven and all their tribes he blessed;
He saw the wicked butcher-birds that their own comrades slew,
And none the less he blessed them, for “they know not what they do.”
He saw the green sap running in many a forest tree,
He blessed them, and he blessed the ships whose masts their stems should be;
He blessed the flower for what she was, the beauty of an hour—
“Man passes, and he leaves behind less fragrance than a flower.”
He blessed them, and he blessed the ships whose masts their stems should be;
He blessed the flower for what she was, the beauty of an hour—
“Man passes, and he leaves behind less fragrance than a flower.”
The gods that were, St. Patrick blessed, and all fair fantasies
That have made men more deep of heart, more strange to sloth and ease.
He blessed the dreams too beautiful to be made true on earth;
He blessed the mystery of death, the mystery of birth.
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He blessed the dreams too beautiful to be made true on earth;
He blessed the mystery of death, the mystery of birth.
He came back to his clerics, and in his eyes they saw
The clear light of God's kindness more lovely than God's law;
And to his dying day he bore, for all to understand,
The beauty of that time when he went lonely through the land
With blessings on the lips of him and blessings in each hand.
The clear light of God's kindness more lovely than God's law;
And to his dying day he bore, for all to understand,
The beauty of that time when he went lonely through the land
With blessings on the lips of him and blessings in each hand.
| Dirge for Aoine and other poems | |