Irish Poem #6 - The Lake Isle of Inisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
-William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
14 notes
·
View notes
HERE WE GO LADS
7K notes
·
View notes
22K notes
·
View notes
“We, at least, are not loyal men: we confess to having more respect and honour for the raggedest child of the poorest labourer in Ireland today than for any, even the most virtuous, descendant of the long array of murderers, adulterers and madmen who have sat upon the throne of England”
-James Connolly
15 notes
·
View notes
Bringing back a classic with Irish Poem #5
Géibhinn
Ainmhí mé
ainmhí allta
as na teochreasa
a bhfuil cliú agus cáil
ar mo scéimh
chroithfinn crainnte na coille
tráth
le mo gháir
ach anois
luím síos
agus breathnaím trí leathshúil
ar an gcrann aonraic sin thall
tagann na céadta daoine
chuile lá
a dhéanfadh rud ar bith
dom
ach mé a ligean amach.
Le Caitlín Maude, 1941-82
4 notes
·
View notes
Irish Poem #4 - The Stolen Child
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.
- W. B. Yeats, 1865-1939
36 notes
·
View notes
It's a good day to be Irish.
Rest In Piss Queen Elizabeth the Second
27 notes
·
View notes
The Lake Isle of Inisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
- W. B. Yeats, 1865-1939
2 notes
·
View notes
Daily Irish Poem #2
Alone
The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.
The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name— her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.
- James Joyce, 1882-1941
8 notes
·
View notes
Daily Irish Poem #1
I Have Not Garnered Gold
I have not garnered gold;
The fame I found hath perished;
In love I got but grief
That withered my life.
Of riches or of store
I shall not leave behind me
(Yet I deem it, O God, sufficient)
But my name in the heart of a child.
-Pádraig H. Pearse, 1879-1916
4 notes
·
View notes
He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music.
James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, December 29, 1916
68 notes
·
View notes
Céad Mhíle Fáilte agus Hello Friends
Welcome to my inaugural post here at @irishhistorynerd.
I thought, what better place to start this blog than with Ireland herself, and all of her other names. So indulge me as I show you all the etymology and meaning behind the wonderful names of Ireland.
Starting with the most known,
Ireland: Ireland is made of two parts, 'ire' and 'land.' Ire doesn't come from the english word ire, meaning anger, but the Irish name for the country being Éire (Air-ah). The last three letters were taken and land was added to the end, making Ireland.
But where does Éire come from? Well that'd be from the Old Irish word Ériu, the matron goddess of the land of Ireland.
Éirinn and Éireann are both grammatical forms of Éire.
Erin originates from Éirinn and is notable for being a common poetic way to refer to Ireland. They personified Ireland as a beautiful woman named Erin in their poetry and songs.
Hibernia is another name used for personifying Ireland. The name is the Latin word for Ireland. It comes from the Roman Historians's Tacitus' book 'Agricola.' While Hibernia isn't much used as a name for Ireland anymore, its compound form is more commonly used to mean Ireland or Irish, e.g. Hiberno-English means the Irish dialect of english.
The Emerlad Isle, a common epithet for Ireland, first shows up in print in the 1795 poem by William Drennan, 'When Erin First Rose.' It references the beautiful green fields of the Irish countryside.
The Land of Saints and Scholars is another common epithet. Which goes to show the magnitude of influence the catholic church had on ireland. One of the most famous saints in the world, Saint Patrick, is the patron saint of ireland and is mythologically responsible for converting a large nu,ber of people to catholicism and driving evil (the snakes) away from the land. Our scholars date back to the dark ages, where monks would work tirelessly to transcribe copies of text in an age where literacy was at a shocking low. Our tradition of scholars continued on for centuries, with the monks being replaced by great writers and poets such as Padraig Pearse, W. B. Yeats, and James Joyce.
So there we go! the most common names for Éire and her land. I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to follow for more fun Irish knowledge.
And of course I'm only human, if I made any many mistakes please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible.
5 notes
·
View notes