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 ...
I Shall Not Die For Thee
O woman, shapely as the swan,
On your account I shall not die:
The men you've slain -- a trivial clan --
Were less than I.
I ask me shall I die for these --
For blossom teeth and scarlet lips --
And shall that delicate swan-shape
Bring me eclipse?
Well-shaped the breasts and smooth the skin,