Here you will find thePoemA Saintof poet Padraic Colum
THE stir of children with fresh dresses on, And men who meet and say unguarded words, And women from the coops Of drudgeries released; And standing at their doors to watch go by Small pomps with pennons and with first spring-flowers, And, lifted over them, Your name that sanctifies. But you, when you came here, it was to front Hard-handed men, and trouble them for dues To stay the fatherless Portion of what they ploughed. To claim resource from them whose own resource Was pittance this you came here to do, And give for what you gained Your season of bright youth: The hunt upon the mountain-side, the dance Down in the vale; the whisper at the door; Kiss on unstaying lips That afterwards would stay; Music you could have made would make our land Of noble note and join our different breeds, And make your name endeared On roadside and in hall. All this was changed, as when the warm stream Setting through ocean toward vine-bearing isles, Turns its flow toward capes Where heather only thrives. That day that was of battles and hard pledges Has all been changed into this whitened morn- Music and holiday, And benediction bells.
