A Journey Into Ireland

I wandered first before sundown

Was set to have its way,

Into the streets of Banba’s crown

That nestle side the quay,

But there I found no more the life

Of music and of ‘lore,

Alas the wake of cities strife

Had called this way before.

In unswept streets with shops ignored

And windows boarded up,

The landlord’s price had deftly soared,

Good times had turned corrupt.

Though yet not sad for out of this

New stories plant and grow,

So while the old folk may remiss

Their young are not to know.

And so with firmer heart now found

A fresh strong Sun to guide,

I set about more hallowed ground,

Let Banba boast her pride.

Through Phoenix Park and past Dunboyne

I rode on up to Trim,

Where Nature’s hold is still well joined

And Glory laps its brim.

In this small town untouched by Time,

Except for fallen stones,

My passion rose above its climb

Released by silent groans.

For here sheer beauty ran amock

With wild, explosive calm,

And all about Heaven’s peace did knock,

Like soothing ointment; balm.

I could have stayed all through the night

Amdist this hazy place

But suffering all of this delight

My nerve sought duller space,

And so I carried on my way,

Cross-country up to Skryne,

Where nightfall showed her galaxy,

My soul still in a dream.

And so you see, at this fair stage,

I’d struck my mountain peak.

From here – downhill, let’s blow our guage

Our journey’d more to speak!

Then summoning all my reasoning power,

I cast away my care,

For in this land there was not tower,

Just time and space to spare!

Written in May 1984 in a Bed and Breakfast in Connemara, Ireland, one afternoon in pouring rain. “Banba” is a gaelic word for Ireland and was used by Willliam Nugent, hence my use of it in this poem.