Irish Review (Dublin)

May DayAuthor(s): Thomas MacDonaghSource: The Irish Review (Dublin), Vol. 4, No. 39 (May, 1914), p. 135Published by: Irish Review (Dublin)Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/51000061 .

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MAY DAY

BY 'tHOMAS MACDONAGH

I wish I were to-day orl the hill behind the wood,- My eyes on the brown bog there and the Shannon river,- Behind the wood at home, a quickened solitude- When the wirlds from Slieve Bloom set the branches there a-quiver.

The winds are there now and the green of May On every feathery tree-bough, tender on every hedge: Over the bog-fields there larks carol to-day, And a cuckoo is mocking them out of the woodland's edge.

Here a country warmth is quiet on the rocks That alone make never a change when the May is duly come; Here sings no lark, and to-day no cuckoo mocks: Over the wide hill a hawk floats, and the leaves are dumb.

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This content downloaded from 195.34.79.223 on Mon, 16 Jun 2014 01:04:58 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions