Every night at Currabwee
Little men with leather hats
Mend the boots of Faery
From the tough wings of the bats.
So my mother told to me,
And she is wise you will agree. .
Louder than a cricket's wing
All night long their hammer's glee
Times the merry songs they sing
Of Ireland glorious and free.
So I heard Joseph Plunkett say,
You know he heard them but last May.
And when the night is very cold
They warm their hands against the light
Of stars that make the waters gold
Where they are labouring all the night.
So Pearse said, and he knew the truth,
Among the stars he spent his youth.
And I, myself, have often heard
Their singing as the stars went by,
For am I not of those who reared
The banner of old Ireland high,
From Dublin town to Turkey's shores,
And where the Vardar loudly roars?
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (At Currabwee by Francis Ledwidge )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Georgetown U.S.A., Radclyffe Hall
- Interior Sensations, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- கொல்லும் போர்க்களம்!, Dr.V.K. Kanniappan
- No Use Sighin', Edgar Albert Guest
- The Way It Sometimes Is, Henry Splawn Taylor
- The Furnace Door, Edgar Albert Guest
- When Mother Made An Angel Cake, Edgar Albert Guest
- Sunday In Liguria, Radclyffe Hall
- Money, Edgar Albert Guest
- Ironic Love, RoseAnn V. Shawiak