THE GAELIC POETS

You have re-strung the harp of Gaeldom,

and it is firelight dancing on red hair.

The spear once broken in the glens  -  all

the light in the world glitters from it today  -

the lightning of the waters is no longer cold silver in a creel.

You carried your tabernacle  -  sun of love by day;

flame of freedom by night  -  into our time , and wander now, Bard,

by the streaming tide; turning pebbles, and turning the turning of pebbles into poems;

and the deaf (such a one as I)

cry and ache to have one word of them  -

that would burn in the breast, like a young man’s first dram.



 

highland stream                                           

its purling
vocabulary

                                                        note: dram: measure of whisky