an Irish poet, novelist, dramatist, biographer, playwright, children's author and collector of folklore. He was one of the leading figures of the Celtic Revival.
Colum was born Patrick Collumb in a County Longford workhouse, where his father worked. He was the first of eight children born to Patrick and Susan Collumb. When the father lost his job in 1889, he moved to the United States to participate in the Colorado gold rush. Padraic and his mother and siblings remained in Ireland. When the father returned in 1892, the family moved to Glasthule, near Dublin, where his father was employed as Assistant Manager at Sandycove and Glasthule railway station. His son... more »
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Padraic Colum Poems
Old Woman of the Roads
O, to have a little house! To own the hearth and stool and all! The heaped up sods against the fire, The pile of turf against the wall!
To Meath of the pastures, From wet hills by the sea, Through Leitrim and Longford Go my cattle and me.
She Moved Through the Faire
My young love said to me: My mother won't mind, And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind. She put her arms 'round me; these words she did say: It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day!
A Cradle Song
O men from the fields, Come gently within. Tread softly, softly O men coming in!
You stay for a while beside me with your beauty young and rare, Though your light limbs are as limber as the foal's that follows the mare;
An age being mathematical, these flowers Of linear stalks and spheroid blooms were prized By men with wakened, speculative minds, And when with mathematics they explored
I’LL be an otter, and I’ll let you swim A mate beside me; we will venture down A deep, dark river, when the sky above Is shut of the sun; spoilers are we,
Sunset and silence! A man: around him earth savage, earth broken; Beside him two horses -- a plough! Earth savage, earth broken, the brutes, the dawn man there in the sunset, And the Plough that is twin to the Sword, that is founder of cities!
Two little creatures with faces the size of a pair of pennies are clasping each other
Old Men Complaining
First Old Man He threw his crutched stick down: there came Into his face the anger flame, And he spoke viciously of one
I shall not Die for thee
O woman, shapely as the swan, On your account I shall not die: The men you've slain -- a trivial clan -- Were less than I.
An Old Song Re-sung
As I went down through Dublin city At the hour of twelve of the night, Who did I see but a Spanish lady Washing her feet by candle light.
A Rann Of Exile
NOR right, nor left, nor any road I see a comrade face, Nor word to lift the heart in me I hear in any place;
Across The Door
THE fiddles were playing and playing, The couples were out on the floor; From converse and dancing he drew me, And across the door.
Comments about Padraic Colum
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Old Woman of the Roads
O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped up sods against 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 loth to leave
The ticking clock ...