Chapter I: Am the Mountainy Singer

I am the mountainy singer,
And I would sing of the Christ
Who followed the paths thro' the mountains
To eat at the people's tryst.

He loved the sun-dark people
As the young man loves his bride,
And he moved among their thatches,
And for them he was crucified.

And the people loved him, also,
More than their houses or lands,
For they had known his pity
And felt the touch of his hands.

And they dreamed with him in the mountains,
And they walked with him on the sea,
And they prayed with him in the garden,
And bled with him on the tree.

Not ever by longing and dreaming
May they come to him now,
But by the thorns of sorrow
That bruised his kingly brow.

THE RAINBOW SPANNING A PLANET SHOWER

The rainbow spanning a planet shower,
The sloe in berry, the flax in flower.

The scholar's satchel, the beggar's staff,
The ploughman's whistle, the tinker's laugh.

The stranded hooker, the breaking wave,
The sunrise gilding the carn of Medb.

The strength of mountains, the swiftness of wind
Blowing over the leagues behind.

The hot lips sealing the spoken word,
The song in gentle places heard.

The wildgoose trumpeting in the blue,
The postcar stuck in a drift of snow.

The bogslide moving, the seaward leap,
The cry, the townland whelmed in sleep.

The sock on the anvil, the thread in the loom,
The Host on the altar, the child in the womb.

The wayside murder, the whispered name,
The hanging body, the hidden shame.

And more--if you but listen and look--
In this, my elemental book!