Francis Ledwidge

(19 August 1887 – 31 July 1917 / Janeville, Slane)

Ardan Mór


AS I was climbing Ardan Mór
From the shore of Sheelin lake,
I met the herons coming down
Before the water’s wake.

And they were talking in their flight
Of dreamy ways the herons go
When all the hills are withered up
Nor any waters flow.

Submitted: Friday, April 16, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Ardan Mór by Francis Ledwidge )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet John Clare

I love to see the old heath's withered brake
Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling,
While the old heron from the lonely lake
Starts slow and flaps its melancholy wing,
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Grace Paley

 

Trending Poems

  1. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  2. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  3. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  4. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  5. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  6. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  7. Being With You, Heather Burns
  8. If, Rudyard Kipling
  9. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  10. Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]