Poetry Sunday: St. Patrick's Day: With an Irish Shamrock by Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna

Happy St. Patrick's Day to all who celebrate it...and even those who don't! And here's a poem for you from almost a hundred years ago in honor of this day.

St. Patrick's Day: With an Irish Shamrock

by Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna

From the region of zephyrs, the Emerald isle,
The land of thy birth, in my freshness I come,
To waken this long-cherished morn with a smile,
     And breathe o’er thy spirit the whispers of home.
O welcome the stranger from Erin’s green sod;
  I sprang where the bones of thy fathers repose,
I grew where thy free step in infancy trod,
  Ere the world threw around thee its wiles and its woes.
         But sprightlier themes
         Enliven the dreams,
My dew-dropping leaflets unfold to impart:
         To loftiest emotion
         Of patriot devotion,
I wake the full chord of an Irishman’s heart.

The rose is expanding her petals of pride,
     And points to the laurels o’erarching her tree;
And the hardy Bur-thistle stands rooted beside,
     And sternly demands;—Who dare meddle wi’ me?
And bright are the garlands they jointly display,
     In death-fields of victory gallantly got;
But let the fair sisters their trophies array,
     And show us the wreath where the shamrock is not!
             By sea and by land,
             With bullet and brand,
My sons have directed the stormbolt of war;
             The banners ye boast,
             Ne’er waved o’er our host,
Unfanned by the accents of Erin-go-bragh!

Erin mavourneen! dark is thy night;
     Deep thy forebodings and gloomy thy fears;
And O, there are bosoms with savage delight
     Who laugh at thy plainings and scoff at thy tears!
But, Erin mavourneen, bright are the names
     Who twine with the heart-vein thy fate in their breast;
And scorned be the lot of the dastard, who shames
     To plant, as a trophy, this leaf on his crest!
             Thrice trebled disgrace
             His honours deface,
Who shrinks from proclaiming the isle of his birth!
             Though lowly its stem,
             This emerald gem
Mates with the proudest that shadow the earth!

      Sandhurst, March 17, 1827

Comments

  1. David M. Gascoigne,March 17, 2024 at 4:15 AM

    It is quite odd that this festival has spread to so many other corners of the world, and green beer today will be a universal commodity. How many people know the source of St. P’s renown? Very few I bet!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersMarch 17, 2024 at 10:40 AM

      Just proves that people will take any excuse to dye their beer green, I guess.

      Delete
  2. Deb Nance at ReaderbuzzMarch 21, 2024 at 2:27 PM

    My son and daughter-in-law celebrated big in Chicago. The powers-that-be turn the Chicago River green on this day.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no
Read more

Open Season (Joe Pickett #1) by C.J. Box - A review

I was introduced to the writing of C.J. Box through my local library's Mystery Book Club.  Open Season , the first in Box's Joe Pickett series, was the club's selection for reading in June. Although I didn't get a chance to read it in time for the meeting, the discussion of it made me curious and I put it on my to-be-read list. I'm glad I finally got around to it this week. Box has created an enormously appealing character in Joe Pickett. A Wyoming game warden, Joe is a devoted family man with two young daughters and a pregnant wife when we first meet him. He and his family are able to barely scrape by financially on the meager salary of a state employee  (Been there, done that!) , but Joe is a happy man, because he's living his dream. Being a game warden was what he always wanted to be. Not only Joe but his whole family are lovingly drawn by Box. We get to know them well and to like them and want them not just to endure but to triumph. Seven-year-old Sherid
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try.
Read more