Poems By Arjava

Landscape And No Figures

DID you travel the leprechaun way

From Leighin village,—

Forgetting or sheep-dog's bark or horse's neigh

Or irk of tillage ?

Stiffly the Centaury plant

And the Stag's Horn Moss

Attend while the pauseless peewit's and crickets' chant

A wild scorn toss.

Dodder, by coral twine,

Will grimly tether

The smaller whin—gold-bloomed and with soft spine—

To the bell heather.

When butterflies brood on the sod,

Or dreaming pass,

Have they power in their wing-waft to set the blue scabious anod

With the quaking grass ?

Never was air so still,

Or a day so blue,

Yet the whole moor bowed as marshalled chieftains will

If a king go through.