Poem
Gerard Smyth
In Drumcliff Churchyard
In Drumcliff Churchyard
In Drumcliff Churchyard
where we stopped to find the epitaph,it seemed just right that we were lost
in rain that pounded the car bonnet
and sounded like a horseman passing by,
his destination further on where sea-wreck
and sand-castle each cast a cracked shadow
and the ocean learned to dance like Crazy Jane
between the shores of here, there
and the islands where John Synge
walked on air, heard the true vernacular.
© 2007, Gerard Smyth
From: The Mirror Tent
Publisher: Dedalus, Dublin
Drumcliff Churchyard: final resting place of WB Yeats in Ireland, having been originally interred in France. His epitaph is taken from the last lines of ‘Under Ben Bulben’, one of his final poems:
Cast a cold Eye
On Life, on Death.
Horseman, pass by.
From: The Mirror Tent
Publisher: Dedalus, Dublin
Poems
Poems of Gerard Smyth
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In Drumcliff Churchyard
where we stopped to find the epitaph,it seemed just right that we were lost
in rain that pounded the car bonnet
and sounded like a horseman passing by,
his destination further on where sea-wreck
and sand-castle each cast a cracked shadow
and the ocean learned to dance like Crazy Jane
between the shores of here, there
and the islands where John Synge
walked on air, heard the true vernacular.
From: The Mirror Tent
Drumcliff Churchyard: final resting place of WB Yeats in Ireland, having been originally interred in France. His epitaph is taken from the last lines of ‘Under Ben Bulben’, one of his final poems:
Cast a cold Eye
On Life, on Death.
Horseman, pass by.
In Drumcliff Churchyard
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