Padraic Colum Poems
|81.||The Old College||4/20/2010|
|83.||The Sister's Lullaby||4/20/2010|
|84.||An Drinaun Donn||4/20/2010|
|85.||A Ballad Maker||4/20/2010|
|86.||Polonius And The Ballad Singers||1/1/2004|
|89.||An Old Woman Of The Roads||4/20/2010|
|90.||A Poor Scholar Of The 'Forties||4/20/2010|
|91.||Across The Door||4/20/2010|
|92.||A Rann Of Exile||4/20/2010|
|93.||I Shall Not Die For Thee||1/1/2004|
|94.||An Old Song Re-Sung||4/20/2010|
|95.||Old Men Complaining||1/1/2004|
|102.||She Moved Through The Faire||1/1/2004|
|103.||A Cradle Song||1/1/2004|
|106.||Old Woman Of The Roads||1/1/2004|
Comments about Padraic Colum
Old Woman Of The Roads
O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped up sods against the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall!
To have a clock with weights and chains
And pendulum swinging up and down!
A dresser filled with shining delph,
Speckled and white and blue and brown!
I could be busy all the day
Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,
And fixing on their shelf again
My white and blue and speckled store!
I could be quiet there at night
Beside the fire and by myself,
Sure of a bed and loth to leave
The ticking clock ...
An age being mathematical, these flowers
Of linear stalks and spheroid blooms were prized
By men with wakened, speculative minds,
And when with mathematics they explored
The Macrocosm, and came at last to
The Vital Spirit of the World, and named it
Invisible Pure Fire, or, say, the Light,
The Tulips were the Light's receptacles.
The gold, the bronze, the red, the bright-swart Tulips!