I’ve let other things crowd out St. Patrick’s Day for me. My days have plodded steadily this year. I haven’t given much thought to future plans, but remained within the day.
Still, out of respect for the day, here are two poems with kinds of longing.
Patrick Pearse, “On the Strand of Howth” : (Entire poem)
Speaking in the night;
Of the voice of the birds
In Glenasmole
Happily, with melody,
Chanting music.
Seamus Heaney, “Mid-Term Break”
I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand
And tell me they were ‘sorry for my trouble’.
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest
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