Cúcídh Mac Cuagh

Cúcídh Mac Cuagh Poems

Ay, the lake so beautiful in the early morning light,
A dreamlike haze ‘twixt the faery world and mere mortal sight.
From the rising mist o’the lake comes the mysteries it beholds,
From bog to bank; ice-sheets keep it cold.
...

-In the midst and- The mist,
Came it from the west,
O’er heads of gods and goddesses,
Whom are now bless’d.
...

In the end ‘twas but a jest,
Jesting as lovers do.
But from the start I lov’d thee best,
Bath’d in morning dew.
...

This plain on which we stand is but a Stage of Dreams;
We play out aspiring thoughts to an audience that seems
Captured, dumb without an aside or candid soliloquy,
A distracted thought, in full mind, that will away again from me!
...

5.

Nymph, O lady I desire
In Oisin’s eyes I see you there,
Akin with faery mien and enchantments,
Magically lit tresses of gold,
...

Andy’s gone, gone forever
Never to come back;
Never to answer the beck and call:
“We want Andy back! ”
...

O, to be with you, Dear, would be sublime,
Together as one in the summer time;
Cosseting we’ll be, in the shade of oak,
O, my love, twixt us words need not be spoke.
...

To be three months hereafter and it concluded,
All this nonsense, gratuitous knowledge included,
Of little relevancy these essays germane,
To Dev, Uncle Jo and Adolf- ‘inhumane’.
...

To lay upon the sun-warmed grass,
My head upon your sun-warmed lap,
Your emphatic beauty holds no crass,
Sweet perfection is your naked pap.
...

Behind the thick walls of a protective Court,
Defenders of an ideology, a passionate belief,
Entangled with garrisons and guns ‘gainst the
Compromisers weak; with whom they stood,
...

Cúcídh Mac Cuagh Biography

Rugadh agus togadh mé i gCorcaigh, an fíor príomhchathair in Érinn. Is aisteoir, file, ceolteoir 'gus drámadóir mé. Galú abú!)

The Best Poem Of Cúcídh Mac Cuagh

The Good Lady

Ay, the lake so beautiful in the early morning light,
A dreamlike haze ‘twixt the faery world and mere mortal sight.
From the rising mist o’the lake comes the mysteries it beholds,
From bog to bank; ice-sheets keep it cold.

Nor man, nor woman can see to th’other side,
To the plain I would fain to see her:
Be she her or no?
Nothing but her keeps me going hence,
Radiance out o’the grey; love in jest!
But on I will go and go and sue to know,
If’t be her or no.

By the lake so beautiful in the early morning light,
An apparition of beauty thence filling me with delight.
The breeze gently caresses, lightly her long brown hair,
I hate this fear for being so near, and I not at all there.

But is it true to say she’s there and taunting me away?
I would gladly depart withal so merrily and gay.
Whither I know not, nor care I not to say:
The good lady comes to steal me away?

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