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Joseph Campbell
Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,
Once had no more than the horn on his hands.
But Ciaran is rich now, and Ciaran is great,
And rides with the air of a squire of estate.
O Christ! and to see the man up on the back
Of a thoroughbred stallion, a bay or a black!
There's not a horsebreeder from Banna to Laoi
Can handle the snaffle so pretty as he!
And Ciaran, for all, has the wit of a child,
A heart just as soft, and an eye just as mild.
No maker of ballads puts curse at his door:
He handsels the singer, and harbours the poor.
For Ciaran, the master of horses and lands,
Once had no more than the horn on his hands.
old field
the land is tangier and out
of order there
a place never likely to thin
all gone off
and up
while I tried to compose a duo
in a rain-drunk land
who could it be singing
with so much pleasure
to herself
find me
a place just wide enough for rocks
find me a land of fire
but no flag
a blockhead land
in which a beggar must have
the greatest hands
a world in which money
is counterfeit nonsense
like a king’s wind discernable to the eye
where God will grow
in whatever body
poor lord of silence
but I
overcome with seasickness
shut my eyes to the moon
a strange kitchen
the stomach
it cannot make too much
for the land
like news of peace
the land so promising in spring
is sick and wounded with oil
getting money
we hope to get thin
go home hungry to be
who is carrying us to war
to ward off news
I have stopped up ears
as the first act of hostility
the land is sunk
only the captain found a finite bed
rain turned into jade
cunning as a way of raising things
but I begin to be weary
of having spoil
the land in pieces
would be a busy bed
we come to the park
with a barber’s cruel hands
but the land’s new contractor is a mole
and it is out of light
in constant fear
I survey my heart for hope
an acre of land bought
for nothing but a laugh
a throng of sad people
carried here by boat
where land is a half-way house
we go drinking
past all fear
we come to a labyrinth
nothing in it
but accidents like dust
falling down over all
the land in pieces
without any other design
but love