Padraic Colum (1881–1972). Anthology of Irish Verse. 1922.
By Padraic Colum5. A Drover
T
From wet hills by the sea,
Through Leitrim and Longford
Go my cattle and me.
Their slipping and breathing.
I name them the bye-ways
They’re to pass without heeding.
Brown bogs with black water;
And my thoughts on white ships
And the King o’ Spain’s daughter.
You can spend at the fair
But your face you must turn
To your crops and your care.
You’ve seen many lands;
But you walk two by two,
And by captain’s commands.
The wet wind in the morn;
And the proud and hard earth
Never broken for corn;
The herds loosened and blind,
Loud words and dark faces
And the wild blood behind.
I would strive breast to breast
I could quiet your herds
With my words, with my words.)
Where there’s grass to the knee;
But you’ll think of scant croppings
Harsh with salt of the sea.