Stop, stop and listen for the bough top
Is whistling and the sun is brighter
Than God's own shadow in the cup now!
Forget the hour-bell. Mournful matins
Will sound, Patric, as well at nightfall.
Faintly through mist of broken water
Fionn heard my melody in Norway.
He found the forest track, he brought back
This beak to gild the branch and tell, there,
Why men must welcome in the daylight.
He loved the breeze that warns the black grouse,
The shouts of gillies in the morning
When packs are counted and the swans cloud
Loch Erne, but more than all those voices
My throat rejoicing from the hawthorn.
In little cells behind a cashel,
Patric, no handbell gives a glad sound.
But knowledge is found among the branches.
Listen! That song that shakes my feathers
Will thong the leather of your satchels.
Is whistling and the sun is brighter
Than God's own shadow in the cup now!
Forget the hour-bell. Mournful matins
Will sound, Patric, as well at nightfall.
Faintly through mist of broken water
Fionn heard my melody in Norway.
He found the forest track, he brought back
This beak to gild the branch and tell, there,
Why men must welcome in the daylight.
He loved the breeze that warns the black grouse,
The shouts of gillies in the morning
When packs are counted and the swans cloud
Loch Erne, but more than all those voices
My throat rejoicing from the hawthorn.
In little cells behind a cashel,
Patric, no handbell gives a glad sound.
But knowledge is found among the branches.
Listen! That song that shakes my feathers
Will thong the leather of your satchels.
Peter,
ReplyDeleteThis is a delightful poem. So well composed and with the blend of man, soul and nature together.
I love those words,'But knowledge is found among the branches'.
Hedge schools, hidden places of prayer and indeed the very wisdom of the blackbird itself.
A nice read.
Best wishes, Eileen
Thanks Eileen,
ReplyDeleteYou should take a look at - Austin Clarke: Collected Poems. Edited by R Dardis Clarke published by Carcanet/The Bridge Press (2008).
Peter
Peter,
ReplyDeleteI did actually compose a comment for this poem and was probably in the process of sending it last Friday evening, when Blogger crashed. Many comments were obliterated and Blogs disturbed in the process!!!
My thoughts were along the lines of....
Liking the realtionship between the life of nature and the wellbeing of the soul.
Lovely thoughts of hedgerows for bird life and the hidden places of worship.
Eileen
Austin Clarke lived near where I grew up. I remember him clearly as an old man in black coat, resting on his cane, as he gazed down on the river Dodder. I read the poem in school and it stayed with me and - for the images it evokes - had to be included in Lagan Love.
ReplyDeletedelightful...
ReplyDelete