Francis Ledwidge

(19 August 1887 – 31 July 1917 / Janeville, Slane)

Comments about Francis Ledwidge

  • Caitlin (10/12/2018 6:55:00 AM)

    I think that Francis Ledwidge was very interesting and i think that he had a hard childhood. His poems are very passionate.

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  • Thomas (5/3/2018 7:54:00 AM)

    Last week, I visited his monument in Belgium. It gave me goosebumps. Than I went home and had with my wife while she was drinking Nesquick chocolate milk. But after all he ain't too bad. Some poems are pretty and others are gruell. Next week I go to London, to go to the hookers. because my wife doens't give good succ.

  • Amy Elliott (2/4/2018 6:39:00 AM)

    Good poet
    I'm currently learning about him

  • Dave Keech (12/15/2017 7:16:00 AM)

    Brilliant poet and true Irish patriot.

    R.I.P Francis

  • Alan Matthews (8/17/2017 11:26:00 AM)

    Francis Ledwidge's submissions to the Drogheda Independent were, at the time, also being printed submission by submission in staves with the intention of publishing a book when the series ended. The series ended abruptly and the staves were put in to storage and ended up being dumped in 1976. One of the staves was saved and the book has finally been published in 2017 entitled Legends and Stories of the Boyne Side by Francis E. Ledwidge. available at www.ledwidgelostlegends.ie. more information is also available on facebook at thelostledwidge

  • Charles Zult (3/1/2016 12:18:00 AM)

    Nice

Best Poem of Francis Ledwidge

Soliloquy

When I was young I had a care
Lest I should cheat me of my share
Of that which makes it sweet to strive
For life, and dying still survive,
A name in sunshine written higher
Than lark or poet dare aspire.

But I grew weary doing well.
Besides, 'twas sweeter in that hell,
Down with the loud banditti people
Who robbed the orchards, climbed the steeple
For jackdaws' eyes and made the cock
Crow ere 'twas daylight on the clock.
I was so very bad the neighbours
Spoke of me at their daily labours.

And now I'm drinking wine in France,
The helpless ...

Read the full of Soliloquy

Behind The Closed Eye

I walk the old frequented ways
That wind around the tangled braes,
I live again the sunny days
Ere I the city knew.

And scenes of old again are born,
The woodbine lassoing the thorn,
And drooping Ruth-like in the corn
The poppies weep the dew.

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