Gerald Griffin

Rating: 4.67
Rating: 4.67

Gerald Griffin Poems

1.

Oh, sweet Adare! oh, lovely vale!
Oh, soft retreat of sylvan splendour!
Nor summer sun nor morning gale
E'er hail'd a scene more softly tender.
...

A Place in thy memory, Dearest!
Is all that I claim:
To pause and look back when thou hearest
The sound of my name.
...

Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?
Whose gentle flood,
By cliff and wood,
...

White bird of the tempest! O beautiful thing,
With the bosom of snow, and the motionless wing,
Now sweeping the billow, now floating on high,
...

WHEN like the early rose,
   Eileen Aroon!
Beauty in childhood blows,
   Eileen Aroon!
...

Methought I roved on shining walks,
'Mid odorous groves and wreathed bowers.
Where, trembling on their tender stalks,
...

Sleep that like the couched dove
Broods o'er the weary eye,
Dreams that with soft heavings move
The heart of memory,
...

Gerald Griffin Biography

Gerald Griffin was an Irish novelist, poet and playwright. He was born in Limerick, Ireland, the son of a brewer. He went to London in 1823 and became a reporter for one of the daily papers, and later turned to writing fiction. Once of his most famous works is The Collegians written about the murder of the Colleen Bawn in 1820. In 1838 he burned all of his unpublished manuscripts and joined the Catholic religious order "Congregation of Christian Brothers" in Cork, and died from typhus fever at their monastery. Gerald Griffin has a street named after him in Limerick City and another in Cork City, Ireland. Loughill/Ballyhahill GAA club in west Limerick play under the name of Gerald Griffins.)

The Best Poem Of Gerald Griffin

Adare

Oh, sweet Adare! oh, lovely vale!
Oh, soft retreat of sylvan splendour!
Nor summer sun nor morning gale
E'er hail'd a scene more softly tender.
How shall I tell the thousand charms
Within thy verdant bosom dwelling,
Where, lull'd in Nature's fost'ring arms,
Soft peace abides and joy excelling.

Ye morning airs, how sweet at dawn
The slumbering boughs your song awaken,
Or linger o'er the silent lawn,
With odour of the harebell taken.
Thou rising sun, how richly gleams
Thy smile from far Knockfierna's mountain,
O'er waving woods and bounding streams,
And many a grove and glancing fountain.

In sweet Adare, the jocund spring
His notes of odorous joy is breathing;
The wild birds in the woodland sing,
The wild flowers in the vale are wreathing.
There wings the Mague, as silver clear,
Among the elms so sweetly flowing;
There, fragrant in the early year,
Wild roses on the banks are blowing.

The wild-duck seeks the sedgy bank,
Or dives beneath the glistening billow,
Where graceful droop and clustering dank
The osier bright and rustling willow.
The hawthorn scents the leafy dale,
In thicket lone the stag is belling,
And sweet along the echoing vale
The sound of vernal joy is swelling.

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