Acushla Poem by Roderic Quinn

Acushla

Rating: 2.8


I NAMED her twice, I named her thrice,
I named her ten times over;
The wind heard, and the singing bird,
And the bee in the creamy clover.
Acushla! Acushla!
The cushat dove is cooing;
It's little that a man may do,
Whose heart is hot with wooing.
I left the field, the harvest yield —
The grain was ripe to falling —
And ran, and ran, a crazy man,
And I the whole time calling
'Acushla! Acushla!
The cushat dove is cooing;
When Love is keeping holiday,
What work is worth the doing?'
Her feet were fleet, her pretty feet
Upon the hill and hollow;
She bade me stay, she cried me nay,
And still her eyes said 'Follow!'
Acushla! Acushla!
The cushat dove is cooing;
To capture her was sweet, indeed,
Yet sweeter the pursuing.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 20 January 2016

This poet's wardrobe of words and thoughts is immense and filled to the brim with dazzling pearls and blazing diamonds and rich brocades and sultry silks and brave plumed adventurous hats - -a wordrobe filled with delight for the readers.

28 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success