'...Irish poets, learn your trade...'William Butler Yeats
it is no marvel after all these wars
that we should tune the harp once moreand find in every leaf and fin
a gold that limns it all.
Yeats came not to vanish here.
become the sound of distant spheres
disclose the waning, yearning years
and bring to light their sullen eclipse.
let jewels still fall from poet's lips
who know the mysteries are real
who dare to form from what they feel
a music keened, a boat well keeled
and let the winds of God drive on
in every trembling, rose like song but
rooted in a firmer zeal
in beauty founded, found again
beyond the weal of human sin
let heart be tested in the fire
and find in words the worlds expired
that lived on in the banished soul.
let language be the bell that tolls.
and not the slogan that pretends.
mary angela douglas 28 july 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment