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Francis Ledwidge, longing, in English Clear filters

DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

The Ships of Arcady

Thro' the faintest filigree Over the dim waters go Little ships of Arcady When the morning moon is low. I can hear the sailors' song From the blue edge of the sea, Passing like the lights along Thro' the dusky filigree. Then where moon and waters meet Sail by sail they pass away, With little friendly winds replete Blowing from the breaking day. And when the little ships have flown, Dreaming still of Arcady I look across the waves, alone In the misty filigree.
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

The Lure

I saw night leave her halos down On Mitylene's dark mountain isle, The silhouette of one fair town Like broken shadows in a pile. And in the farther dawn I heard The music of a foreign bird. In fields of shady angles now I stand and dream in the half dark: The thrush is on the blossomed bough, Above the echoes sings the lark, And little rivers drop between Hills fairer than dark Mitylene. Yet something calls me with no voice And wakes sweet echoes in my mind; In the fair country of my choice Nor Peace nor Love again I find,
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

An Old Desire

I searched thro' memory's lumber-room And there I found an old desire, I took it gently from the gloom To cherish by my scanty tire. And all the night a sweet-voiced one, Sang of the place my loves abide, Til Earth leaned over from the dawn And hid the last star in her side. And often since, when most alone, I ponder on my old desire, But never hear the sweet-voiced one, And there are ruins in my fire.
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

The Shadow People

Old lame Bridget doesn't hear Fairy music in the grass When the gloaming's on the mere And the shadow people pass: Never hears their slow grey feet Coming from the village street Just beyond the parson's wall, Where the clover globes are sweet And the mushroom's parasol Opens in the moonlit rain. Every night I hear them call From their long and merry train. Old lame Bridget says to me, "It is just your fancy, child," She cannot believe I see Laughing faces in the wild,
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

Autumn Evening in Serbia

All the thin shadows Have closed on the grass, With the drone on their dark wings The night beetles pass. Folded her eyelids, A maiden asleep, Day sees in her chamber The pallid moon peep. From the bend of the briar The roses are torn, And the folds of the wood tops Are faded and worn. A strange bird is singing Sweet notes of the sun, Tho' song time is over And Autumn begun.
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

Low-Moon Land

I often look when the moon is low Thro' that other window on the wall, At a land all beautiful under snow, Blotted with shadows that come and go When the winds rise up and fall. And the form of a beautiful maid In the white silence stands, And beckons me with her hands. And when the cares of the day are laid, Like sacred things, in the mart away, I dream of the low-moon land and the maid Who will not weary of waiting, or jade Of calling to me for aye. And I would go if I knew the sea That lips the shore where the moon is low, For a longing is on me that will not go.
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

The Sister

I saw the little quiet town, And the whitewashed gables on the hill, And laughing children coming down The laneway to the mill. Wind-blushes up their faces glowed, And they were happy as could be, The wobbling water never flowed So merry and so free. One little maid withdrew aside To pick a pebble from the sands. Her golden hair was long and wide, And there were dimples on her hands. And when I saw her large blue eyes, What was the pain that went thro' me? Why did I think on Southern skies And ships upon the sea?
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

The Rushes

The rushes nod by the river As the winds on the loud waves go, And the things they nod of are many, For it's many the secret they know. And I think they are wise as the fairies Who lived ere the hills were high, They nod so grave by the river To everyone passing by. If they would tell me their secrets I would go by a hidden way, To the rath when the moon retiring Dips dim horns into the gray. And a fairy-girl out of Leinster In a long dance I should meet, My heart to her heart beating, My feet in rhyme with her feet.
DreamyFrancis Ledwidge

Song-Time Is Over

I will come no more awhile, O Song-time is over. A fire is burning in my heart, I was ever a rover. You will hear me no more awhile, The birds are dumb, And a voice in the distance calls "Come," and "Come,"

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