There was a green branch hung with many a bell When her own people ruled in wave-worn Eire; And from its murmuring greenness, calm of faery, A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell. It charmed away the merchant from his guile, And turned the farmer's memory from his cattle, And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle, For all who heard it dreamed a little while. Ah, Exiles wandering over many seas, Spinning at all times Eire's good to-morrow! Ah, worldwide Nation, always growing Sorrow! I also bear a bell branch full of ease. I tore it from green boughs winds tossed and hurled, Green boughs of tossing always, weary, weary! I tore it from the green boughs of old Eire, That country where a man can so be crossed; Can be so battered, badgered, destroyed That he's a loveless man: gay bells bright laughter That shakes a mouldering cobweb from the rafter; And yet the saddest chimes are best enjoyed. Gay bells or sad, they bring you memories Of half-forgotten innocent old places: We and our bitterness have left no traces On Munster grass and Connemara skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO THE WEST WIND by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY IN DEATH by MARY EMILY NEELEY BRADLEY IT'S HARD TO SAY by BERTON BRALEY A CAROL: STANDARD OF THE CROSS by HARRIET BREWER ON A DREAM by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) FOUR EPISTLES: MIRACLE AT THE FEAST OF PENTECOST: 3 by JOHN BYROM |