Martin Byrne

I CAME UPON AN OLD MAN BY CANAL BANKS ONE DAY

HE STOPPED ME IN MY PASSING AND BADE ME SIT AND STAY

HE SPOKE TO ME OF STONEY SOIL POTATO FIELDS OF WHITE

OF A FAIR DAY IN MID JULY AND THE BLACKBIRD IN FLIGHT

ALL GONE BEFORE US NOW THE WORDS THAT DRIPPED FROM THE POETS BROW

TURNE DOWN BY LIFE’S OWN PLOUGH

ALL GONE BEFORE US NOW

SO QUIETLY I LISTENED AS HE PASSED THROUGH FIELDS OF TIME

FROM BOYHOOD DAYS IN MONAGHAN TO WORDS OF DOUBT AND RHYME

FROM INISKEEN AND DUBLIN TO LONDON’S HALLOWED HALLS

YOUR WORDS STILL ECHO IN MY MIND A TREASURE FOR US ALL

I PASSED THAT WAY THIS MORNING THE SEAT STOOD COLD AND BARE

THE GRASSY BANKS BY THE WATER THE STILLNESS IN THE AIR

ON A BUSY STREET WHERE POETS MEET I STILL CAN HEAR HIM CALL

BY THE GRAND CANAL OF AN AUTUMN DAY AS LEAVES BEGIN TO FALL

MARTIN BYRNE