Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Ireland, is it but a Notion?
Ireland... is it but a notion
Of a land that never was...
But in the dreams of our dreamers...
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He who walks knows not he is watched:
By a God who sees us all and is fair,
Though not seen by human eyes,
No one doubts that he is there...
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Can a hand outstretched be trusted...
Can we without fear accept a smile...
Is all as it should be
Or should we be cautios all the while?
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I am not alone, though alone I may be,
My God always is with, and watches over me,
As I each day, inthis world my way try to make,
He applauds the good I do, and scorns each mistake.
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A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
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A cry, silent in the night,
Taken by angels heavenwards
To the ear of God on high
As if the Angels were birds…
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He faught not war, but a campaign
Freed India from Britains reign,
Caused only the British to shed blood
If only Ireland would camplaign, like India could!
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I, the sinner, in church I am not seen
Because Im not missed, Im never asked where I’ve been
For I, few times my face in church has shown
And so, by those ho frequent it are not known.
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The meadows through which my dancing heart
Has often ambled with abondoned glee
Are now overgrown by thorns
Through which it now cannot walk free.
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Once there lived a Scotsman
Whose years nobody knew
Who was seen by all in town
And known by very few.
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A lady of dreams
Floats on the waves of slumbers deep
And stares, a look that looks through the soul
Of him who is asleep
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The Angels they are calling, and you, you cannot stay
When the angels of the Lord beckon, we all must obey
Happier you will be, back where you are from
Now is your time, someday mine will come.
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What I see before me as I look around,
At where there is nobody and nothing
I see peace, I see heaven, in the tranquility,
As a chorus of songbirds start to sing.
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To grow in love is what God asks...
Or lest not grow at all,
And let happy being small be...
Should be when large not be good at all.
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The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

One night dark walking along
A lane onto its end,
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I wish that when my eyes I open,
A better day sometime will see,
Through my actions or those of others,
A better time for all will be.
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Every smile, every gurgle, every cry,
It is to you a gift from God,
Nurture it, and it will grow,
As the seed does in the sod...
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All is over for now, and yet its but beginning..
All ahead of us: it is now new
We cant change the past: that chapters over...
But we can chage the future by what we do.
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Why should he listen, the burdened Lord?
Ignored by sundry and all
Who deny his mere existence
And his name in vain often call.
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The singing bird gives thanks
By the melody of its song
Which you and I enjoy
As beneath we walk along
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