Padraic Colum (1881–1972). Anthology of Irish Verse. 1922.
By Winifred Letts118. Synges Grave
M
Within the moidher of its thousand wheels
And busy feet that travel up and down.
Far off among the hills where silence steals
In on the soul with comfort-bringing tread.
The wind across the heather cried Ochone
For sorrow of his brother gone away.
Why would they not have left your sleep alone
At peace there in the shadow of the glen?
The fraughan and the moss, the heather brown
And gorse turned gold for joy of Spring begun
And in the dark the stars all looking down
To ask, “When will he take the road again?”
The mountain ewes to some far distant fair,
Would stand and say, “We knew him well alive,
Into the silence brooding everywhere,
And leave you to your sleep below the grass.
What way are you without the rough wind’s breath
You free-born son of mountains and wild waves?
So long ago you had the laugh at death,
And rose and took the windswept mountain road.