The old brown thorn trees break in two high over Cummen Strand Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand, Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies; But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan. The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knocknarea And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say. Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat; But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan. The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare, For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air; Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood; But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood Is Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPISTLE TO SIR ROBERT WALPOLE (1) by HENRY FIELDING TO DEATH OF HIS LADY by FRANCOIS VILLON THE TEAMSTER by MATHILDE BLIND GO, PLOUGHMAN, PLOUGH by JOSEPH CAMPBELL TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. ONE AT A TIME by EDWARD CARPENTER HILL-WOMAN by VERNONA CHALMERS HYMNOS AHYMNOS, OR UMNOS AUMNOS by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH STONE WALLS OF NEW ENGLAND by CATHERINE CATE COBLENTZ CONTENTION BETWEEN FOUR MAIDS CONCERNING ... ADDED MOST PERFECTION by JOHN DAVIES (1569-1626) |