Cúcídh Mac Cuagh Poems

Ay, the lake so beautiful in the early morning light,
A dreamlike haze ‘twixt the faery world and mere mortal sight.
From the rising mist o’the lake comes the mysteries it beholds,
From bog to bank; ice-sheets keep it cold.
...

-In the midst and- The mist,
Came it from the west,
O’er heads of gods and goddesses,
Whom are now bless’d.
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In the end ‘twas but a jest,
Jesting as lovers do.
But from the start I lov’d thee best,
Bath’d in morning dew.
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This plain on which we stand is but a Stage of Dreams;
We play out aspiring thoughts to an audience that seems
Captured, dumb without an aside or candid soliloquy,
A distracted thought, in full mind, that will away again from me!
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Nymph, O lady I desire
In Oisin’s eyes I see you there,
Akin with faery mien and enchantments,
Magically lit tresses of gold,
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Andy’s gone, gone forever
Never to come back;
Never to answer the beck and call:
“We want Andy back! ”
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O, to be with you, Dear, would be sublime,
Together as one in the summer time;
Cosseting we’ll be, in the shade of oak,
O, my love, twixt us words need not be spoke.
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To be three months hereafter and it concluded,
All this nonsense, gratuitous knowledge included,
Of little relevancy these essays germane,
To Dev, Uncle Jo and Adolf- ‘inhumane’.
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To lay upon the sun-warmed grass,
My head upon your sun-warmed lap,
Your emphatic beauty holds no crass,
Sweet perfection is your naked pap.
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Behind the thick walls of a protective Court,
Defenders of an ideology, a passionate belief,
Entangled with garrisons and guns ‘gainst the
Compromisers weak; with whom they stood,
...