Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, APRIL IN IRELAND, by NORA (CHESSON) HOPPER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

APRIL IN IRELAND, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: She hath a woven garland all of the sighing sedge
Last Line: She hath a woven garland all of the sighing sedge.


She hath a woven garland all of the sighing sedge,
And all her flowers are snowdrops grown on the winter's edge:
The golden looms of Tir na n' Og wove all the winter through
Her gown of mist and raindrops, shot with a cloudy blue.

Sunlight she holds in one hand, and rain she scatters after,
And through the rainy twilight we hear her fitful laughter;
She shakes down on her flowers the snows less white than they,
Then quickens with her kisses the folded "knots o'May."

She seeks the summer-lover that never shall be hers,
Fain for gold leaves of autumn she passes by the furze,
Though buried gold it hideth: she scorns her sedgy crown,
And pressing blindly sunwards she treads her snowdrops down.

Her gifts are all a fardel of wayward smiles and tears,
Yet hope she also holdeth, this daughter of the years--
A hope that blossoms faintly set upon sorrow's edge:
She hath a woven garland all of the sighing sedge.





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