 | Irish Poems |  |
46
THE OLD MAGIC
To G. W., who sped me
As I go down from Dalkey and by Killiney Strand
There's something queer about the world: it's all so clean and new!
As though this very minute God put it from His hand
And soft airs of Paradise blew.
There's something queer about the world: it's all so clean and new!
As though this very minute God put it from His hand
And soft airs of Paradise blew.
So fresh it was and shining, the sapphire seas and skies,
The silver-misted mountains and the gorse newly gold.
The big brown lovely headland troubles my heart and eyes,
Till 'tis growing young I am, not old.
The silver-misted mountains and the gorse newly gold.
The big brown lovely headland troubles my heart and eyes,
Till 'tis growing young I am, not old.
I wonder will it stay so, the years I have to live.
With fairy people spreading their spells on sea and hill;
Their webs as fine as gossamer that fairy spinners weave;
And the old enchantment work its will.
With fairy people spreading their spells on sea and hill;
Their webs as fine as gossamer that fairy spinners weave;
And the old enchantment work its will.
47
'Twas worth the twenty years away to see it as I see.
For them that sees it every day's too used to it to mind.
I wonder how I stayed so long and Ireland calling me,
And her breast so warm and kind.
For them that sees it every day's too used to it to mind.
I wonder how I stayed so long and Ireland calling me,
And her breast so warm and kind.
| Irish Poems | |