Katharine Tynan

Katharine Tynan Poems

I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.
...

The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
...

THE Year of the Sorrows went out with great wind:
Lift up, lift up, O broken hearts, your Lord is kind,
...

God bless the little orchard brown
Where the sap stirs these quickening days.
Soon in a white and rosy gown
The trees will give great praise.
...

The boys come home, come home from war,
With quiet eyes for quiet things --
A child, a lamb, a flower, a star,
A bird that softly sings.
...

For the first time since he was born
Her son, her rose without a thorn,
They are at variance, they who were
Always such closest friends and dear.
...

He was so foolish, the poor lad,
He made superior people smile
Who knew not of the wings he had
Budding and growing all the while;
...

There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.
...

CLOUDS is under clouds and rain
For there will not come again
Two, the beloved sire and son
Whom all gifts were rained upon.
...

The Meuse and Marne have little waves;
The slender poplars o'er them lean.
One day they will forget the graves
...

To the aid of my little son
I call all the magnalities --
Archangel, Dominion,
Powers and Principalities.
...

Here in the garden-bed,
Hoeing the celery,
Wonders the Lord has made
Pass ever before me.
...

The house where I was born,
Where I was young and gay,
Grows old amid its corn,
Amid its scented hay.
...

All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road.
...

Now when Christ died for man his sake
A myriad men must die;
His Via Crucis they must take
And share His Calvary.
...

Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses;
Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool;
Overhead the sunset fire and flame amasses
And the moon to eastward rises pale and cool.
...

I would not like to live to be very old,
To be stripped cold and bare
Of all my leafage that was green and gold
In the delicious air.
...

A splendid place is London, with golden store,
For them that have the heart and hope and youth galore;
But mournful are its streets to me, I tell you true,
For I'm longing sore for Ireland in the foggy dew.
...

'What's the news? Now tell it me.'
'Allenby again advances.'
'No, it is not Allenby
But my boy, straight as a lance is.
...

THE Autumn leaves are dying quietly,
Scarlet and orange, underfoot they lie;
They had their youth and prime
And now's the dying time;
...

Katharine Tynan Biography

Katharine Tynan was an Irish-born writer, known mainly for her novels and poetry. After her marriage in 1898 to the writer and barrister Henry Albert Hinkson (1865–1919) she usually wrote under the name Katharine Tynan Hinkson (or Katharine Tynan-Hinkson or Katharine Hinkson-Tynan). Of their three children, Pamela Hinkson (1900–1982) was also known as a writer. Biography Tynan was born into a large farming family in Clondalkin, County Dublin, and educated at a convent school in Drogheda. Her poems were first published in 1878. She met and became friendly with the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins in 1886. Tynan went on to play a major part in Dublin literary circles, until she married and moved to England; later she lived at Claremorris, County Mayo when her husband was a magistrate there from 1914 until 1919. For a while, Tynan was a close associate of William Butler Yeats (who may have proposed marriage and been rejected, around 1885), and later a correspondent of Francis Ledwidge. She is said to have written over 100 novels; there were some unsurprising comments about a lack of self-criticism in her output. Her Collected Poems appeared in 1930; she also wrote five autobiographical volumes.)

The Best Poem Of Katharine Tynan

Any Woman

I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.

I am the fire upon the hearth,
I am the light of the good sun,
I am the heat that warms the earth,
Which else were colder than a stone.

At me the children warm their hands;
I am their light of love alive.
Without me cold the hearthstone stands,
Nor could the precious children thrive.

I am the twist that holds together
The children in its sacred ring,
Their knot of love, from whose close tether
No lost child goes a-wandering.

I am the house from floor to roof,
I deck the walls, the board I spread;
I spin the curtains, warp and woof,
And shake the down to be their bed.

I am their wall against all danger,
Their door against the wind and snow,
Thou Whom a woman laid in a manger,
Take me not till the children grow!

Katharine Tynan Comments

Tamiya Noel 04 September 2019

how old are you 🤯🤬

1 2 Reply
Tamiya Noel 04 September 2019

how old are you 🤯🤬

2 1 Reply
Jannatul Ferdous Mim 25 November 2018

There are not all the poems of Katherine Tynan.😡😡😡

2 1 Reply
rabbitrose@gmail.com 27 April 2018

When did Katherine tynan die?

2 1 Reply
Charles Vaclavik 28 October 2012

I would like to confirm that Katharine Tynan wrote the following, and in which poem. Far in the fields of France, My dear love lies asleep, But not for that my tears, Because he killed, I weep. Thank you, Charles Vaclavik Kaweah10@yahoo.com

16 8 Reply

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