30. On being asked for a War Poem
I THINK it better that in times like these
A poet keep his mouth shut, for in truth
We have no gift to set a statesman right;
He has had enough of meddling who can please
A young girl in the indolence of her youth,
Or an old man upon a winter’s night.
W.B. Yeats (1865–1939). The Wild Swans at Coole. 1919.
of a poem by Peter Sirr beginning with two lines by André Breton
The wardrobe is filled with linen,
there are even moonbeams I can unfold.
The roof has slipped back on the gables
old trees march in from the cold.
The wardrobe is filled with linen,
the beds are slept in again.
More in The Irish Times
James Joyce
Ecce Puer
Of the dark past
A child is born.
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.
Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!
Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.
A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!
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