Louise Imogen Guiney (1861–1920)

I TRY to knead and spin, but my life is low the while.

O, I long to be alone and walk abroad a mile!

Yet if I walk alone, and think of naught at all,

Why from me that ’s young should the wild tears fall?

The shower-stricken earth, the earth-colour’d streams,

They breathe on me awake and moan to me in dreams;

And yonder ivy fondling the broke castle-wall,

It pulls upon my heart till the wild tears fall.

The cabin door looks down a furze-lighted hill,

And far as Leighlin Cross the fields are green and still;

But once I hear the blackbird in Leighlin hedges call,

The foolishness is on me, and the wild tears fall.