Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MESSAGE TO THE BARD, by WILLIAM LIVINGSTON (1808-1870) First Line: The morning is bright and sunlit Last Line: Found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. Subject(s): Poetry & Poets | ||||||||
THE morning is bright and sunlit, and the west wind running smoothly. The sea- sound is slippery, tranquil, since the strife of the skies has calmed. The ship is in her beautiful clothing and weariness will not put her to seek rest. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. This is the crowning of that month's goodliness in which herds of cattle go to the wilderness, to the glens of the lonely hollows in which no corn is sown or reaped, meadow-bed of lowing cattle. My quota did not go up with the others yesterday. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. Thousands of cattle are on the fields there, and white sheep on the heathery hill-tops and the deer on the barren peaks, where the floor of the wind is undefiled, their wild strong progeny wet with the dew of the moist warm breeze. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. The plain and the rugged corries, the sea-shore and every smooth corn-land, have the virtues of the sky's warmth, as we should all wish. The wild shamrock and the daisy are on the grassy meads in bloom. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. The swift brooks of spring-water come down from behind the hills, from clean lochs free from red scum, set on eminences far from the shore, where the deer drinks his abundance, and where beautiful is the covey of wild-ducks swimming. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. The great reef of the sea, as ordained by everlasting law, is in the greatness of nature's majesty, his high head to the waves of the ocean, and with his white halo extending for seven miles of sand cast up from the mouth of the flood-tide. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. The elements, the foundation of creation, warmth and streams and the breath of clouds are cherishing fresh herbs on which the dew lies gently when the shade of night falls as if mourning for what is no more. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. Although the beams of the sun impart the mildness of the skies to the bloom of the meads, and though there is seen stock on the sheilings and folds full of the young of cattle, Islay is today without people. The sheep have put her townships to desolation. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. Though the distressed and stranger wanderer came here, and he were beset in mist, he would not see a glimmer from any hearth on this shore for evermore. The venomed hate of the Saxons has exiled those who have gone from us and will never return. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. Though there be raised Alba's army of famous repute on the field of strife, the heather banner of the men of Islay will not take its place along with the rest. Malice has scattered them over the ocean and there are only dumb brutes left in their place. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. The inherited houses of those who have left us are cold cairns throughout the land. Gone are the Gaels and they shall not return. The cultivation has ceased; there is no more sowing and reaping. The stones of the melancholy larochs bear witness and say: "As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet". There will not be heard the maiden's ditty, the chorus of songs at the waulking-board, nor will stalwart fellows be seen as was their wont playing the game on an even field. The unjust violence of exile took them from us, and gave the strangers the victory they desired. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. The needy will not get shelter, nor the wayfarer a rest from weariness, nor the evangelist an audience. Injustice, Rent Exactions, and the Saxons have triumphed, and the speckled serpent lies in folds on the floors where the fine folk I knew of old were nurtured. Bring this message to the poet. The land of Oa has been made desolate, beautiful Lanndaidh and Roinn Mhic Aoidh. And sunny valleyed Learga has only a woeful remnant on her side. The glen is a green lea land held by men who hate, without tenantry or crop. As I found and as I saw, bring this message to the poet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENVY OF OTHER PEOPLE'S POEMS by ROBERT HASS THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AS A SONG by ROBERT HASS THE FATALIST: TIME IS FILLED by LYN HEJINIAN OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 192 by LYN HEJINIAN LET ME TELL YOU WHAT A POEM BRINGS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA JUNE JOURNALS 6/25/88 by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA FOLLOW ROZEWICZ by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA HAVING INTENDED TO MERELY PICK ON AN OIL COMPANY, THE POEM GOES AWRY by HICOK. BOB IRELAND WEEPING by WILLIAM LIVINGSTON (1808-1870) |
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