 | Irish Poems |  |
72
THE COMMON
To Mary Blackwell
There are glades of gold on the Common, the Common now,
Pillars and arches of the shining gold.
Here's a peace, a forgetting, for tired man and woman now,
Fires to warm the heart at and the senses cold.
Pillars and arches of the shining gold.
Here's a peace, a forgetting, for tired man and woman now,
Fires to warm the heart at and the senses cold.
I've something to say of this Common—O wild and dear!
She hath so many beauties as I could not tell.
She hath a tricksy spirit: listen, incline your ear:
She lays all her lovers under fairy spell.
She hath so many beauties as I could not tell.
She hath a tricksy spirit: listen, incline your ear:
She lays all her lovers under fairy spell.
She has hills, she has hollows, she has gorse and bracken too,
Wild winding pathways and secret groves.
Honey of the pinewood and sweets untaken too,
Whispers and sighings for the heart that loves.
Wild winding pathways and secret groves.
Honey of the pinewood and sweets untaken too,
Whispers and sighings for the heart that loves.
She's a fairy, a witch, oh gamesome, the shining one!
She changes her face still 'twixt the night and day;
“Why, here's a new glade now,” I cry; the designing one
Laughs 'twixt the tree-trunks in the old wild way.
She changes her face still 'twixt the night and day;
73
Laughs 'twixt the tree-trunks in the old wild way.
Over the Common I'm roaming and roaming then,
By the secret pathway through bowers of leaves,
Know all her sweets by heart, the sweet that's coming then,
Think I know it surely, but the witch deceives.
By the secret pathway through bowers of leaves,
Know all her sweets by heart, the sweet that's coming then,
Think I know it surely, but the witch deceives.
I cry to her face then: “You shall not deceive me,
Wearing a new wile 'twixt day and gloam.
For all the disguises your fairy webs weave me
I know the eyes under the hood. Oh, witch, I come.”
Wearing a new wile 'twixt day and gloam.
For all the disguises your fairy webs weave me
I know the eyes under the hood. Oh, witch, I come.”
Up hill, down hollow, she flies and eludes me,
Still from the shadow of trees her laughter rings.
With the old dear graces she holds and deludes me,
But she's a witch too and a bird on wings.
Still from the shadow of trees her laughter rings.
With the old dear graces she holds and deludes me,
But she's a witch too and a bird on wings.
I will say never more, where she mocks to hear it,
“These are new heavens: I was never here.”
She lays the spell on my eyes, the tricksy spirit
Lays the spell on my heart, this Dryad dear.
“These are new heavens: I was never here.”
She lays the spell on my eyes, the tricksy spirit
Lays the spell on my heart, this Dryad dear.
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