Creggan Graveyard
In Creggan graveyard I slept last night in despair
With the rising of the morning a woman came to me with a kiss
Bright burning were her cheeks and her hair shone like gold
It would be medicine to the world to behold that young queen
“Good generous man, be not consumed in clouds of sorrow
But rise up now and come with me, westward on the road
To a good land of honey, yet untouched by the stranger
There will be pleasant melody in our halls when you play your music”
‘Righteous queen, are you Helen from Troy
Or one of the nine women of Parnassus(1), taking on this form
What land of the world has raised you, queen without peers
With your wish for the likes of me to conspire with, out on the road?’
“Do not ask me why I sleep on this side of the Boyne(2)
I am a child of the sidhe, brought up beside Grainne the young
In the true fort of the Ollams (3), I openly strike up the music
In the night I am at Tara, in the morning in the middle of Tyrone”
‘And it is My sharp-cutting fervor to be wanted by the Gaels of Tyrone
And the joyless scions of The Beeches(4), deteriorating in their inheritance
That the clean-colored heirs of Neil Frasaigh would not forsake song
And give clothing at Christmas to the Ollams who are loyal to them’
“Since the plowing of the tribes in Eachroim and-alas!– beneath the Boyne(5)
The signs are that the powers will bring pressure to every druid, without battle
Would you not rather be in the fairy rath, with me by your side every day
Than have the archers of Clan Volley pierce your heart through and through?”
‘I would not forsake you for all the gold in the world
But it would be cowardly to leave my friends yet in this land
I’ve a wife, her that I wooed when she was young
If I abandon her and go with you will she not be in sorrow?’
“I think that you have no friends left among your living kin
You are bare, without posessions, poor, barren, aimless, without goods
Wouldn’t you rather be off with a hot blooded maiden
Than in this land where there is mocking under every tuft of grass for your songs?”
‘O, righteous queen, you have persuaded me with your treasures
Let us go as you promise me in the morning on the road
If I die below the Shannon, In Mannannan’s land(6), or in Great Egypt
In fragrant Creggan Graveyard lay me in the clay below the sod’
Arthur Albert Dawson Bayldon
(Art McCooey)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, World Poems, Night Poems, Sadness Poems, War & Peace Poems, Youth Poems, Christianity Poems, Kings & Queens Poems, Gold Poems, Morning Poems, Woman PoemsBased on Keywords: plowing, archers, tara, blooded, them, shannon, dawson, rath, boyne, scions, tyrone