THE CREEK

I chatter, chatter, as I flow

To join the brimming river;

For men may come and men may go

But I go on forever.

 

I wind about, and in and out,

With here a blossom sailing,

And here and there a lusty trout,

And here and there, a grayling.

 

And here and there a foamy flake

Upon me, as I travel

With many a silvery water-break

Above the golden gravel.

 

And draw them all along, and flow

To join the brimming river;

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.

 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots

I slide by hazel covers;

I move the sweet forget me nots

That grow for happy lovers.

 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,

Among my skimming swallows;

I make the netted sunbeams dance

Against my sandy shallows.

 

I murmur under moon and stars

In brambly wildernesses;

I linger by my shingly bars,

 I loiter round my cresses;

 

And out again I curve and flow

To join the brimming river;

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on forever.

 

(author unknown)

An Old Woman of the Roads

Oh! to have a little house!

To own the hearth and stool and all!

The heaped-up sods upon the fire

The pile of turf against the wall!

 

To have a clock with weights and chains

And pendulum swinging up and down,

A dresser filled with shining delph,

Speckled and white and blue and brown!

 

I could be busy all the day

Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor

And fixing on their shelf again

My white and blue and speckled store!

 

I could be quiet there at night

Beside the fire and by myself,

Sure of a bed and loath to leave

The ticking clock and shining delph!

 

Och! But I'm weary of mist and dark,

And roads where there's never a house nor bush

And tired I am of bog and road,

And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!

 

And I am praying to God on high

And I am praying him night and day,

For a little house, a house of my own-

Out of the wind's and rain's way.

 

by padraic colum  (Irish poet)

 

should you go first

Should you go first and I remain

To walk the road alone,

I'll live in memory's garden, dear,

With happy days we've known.

In spring I'll wait for roses red,

When fades the lilac blue,

In early fall, when brown leaves call,

I'll catch a glimpse of you.

 

Should you go first and I remain

For battles to be fought,

Each thing you've touched along the way

Will be a hallowed spot.

I'll hear your voice, I'll see you smile,

Though blindly I may grope,

The memory of your helping hand

Will buoy me on with hope.

 

Should you go first and I remain

To finish with the scroll,

No length'ning shadows shall creep in

To make this life seem droll.

We've known so much of happiness,

We've had our cup of joy,

And memory is one gift of God

That death can not destroy.

 

Should you go first and I remain,

One thing I'd have you do:

Walk slowly down that long, lone path,

For soon I'll follow you.

I'll want to take each step you take,

That I may walk the same,

For someday down that lonely road

You'll hear me call your name.

by a.k. rowswell