The Paps Of Dana (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    The mountains stand and stare around,
        They are far too proud to speak;
    Altho' they're rooted in the ground,
        Up they go, peak after peak,
    Beyond the tallest tree, and still
        Soaring over house and hill
    Until you'd think they'd never stop
        Going up, top over top,
    Into the clouds,
                                Still I mark
        That a sparrow or a lark
    Flying just as high, can sing
        As if he'd not done anything.

    I think the mountains ought to be
    Taught a little modesty.

James Stephens

James Stephens was an Irish novelist and poet, whose literary output includes many retellings of Irish myths and fairy tales. He was born on February 9, 1880, and passed away on December 26, 1950. Notable works include 'The Crock of Gold' and 'The Demi-Gods'. Stephens also wrote several well-regarded collections of poetry, including 'The Hill of Vision' and 'Insurrections'. His work is characterized by a blend of myth, fantasy, and modernism, capturing the spirit and culture of Ireland.

James Stephens

In Woods And Meadows

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

In The Cool Of The Evening

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

Beresford Place (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

The Appointment (The Adventures Of Seumas Beg)

James Stephens, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Donnybrook (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    I saw the moon so broad and bright
    Sailing high on a frosty night:

    And the air swung far and far between
    The silver disc and the orb of green:

    While here and there a wisp of white
    Cloud-film swam on the misty light:

    And crusted thickly on the sky,
    High and higher and yet more high,

    Were golden star-points dusted through
    The great, wide, silent vault of blue:

    Then I said to me, God is good
    And the world is fair, and where I stood

    I knelt me down and bent my head,
    And said my prayers, and went to bed.

James Stephens

Mount Street (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    Here and there on the wings of night
    A fleck of blue and purple light,
    A scrap of cloud, a bird, a star,
    A comet hurrying afar
    On the abyss, and the moon
    Standing in her silver shoon.

    On the summit of the sky,
    Delicate and proud and high,
    The silver moon on a silver sea
    Spins her silver broidery
    While the stars send down a light
    Here and there on the wings of night.

James Stephens

Merrion Square (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    Grey clouds on the tinted sky,
    A drifting moon, a quiet breeze
    Drooping mournfully to cry
    In the branches of the trees.

    The crying wind, the sighing trees,
    The ruffled stars, the darkness falling
    Down the sky, and on the breeze
    A belated linnet calling.

James Stephens

O'Connell Bridge (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    In Dublin town the people see
    Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously,
    They are finer, I declare,
    Than the clouds of anywhere.

    A swirl of blue and red and green,
    A stream of blinding gold, a sheen
    From silver hill and pearly ridge
    Comes each evening on the bridge.

    So when you walk in a field, look down,
    Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown,
    But in a city look always high
    And watch the beautiful clouds go by.

James Stephens

By Ana Liffey (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    If you come to live with me,
    I will sing so heartily
    In your honour that you will
    Stay to wonder at my skill.

    In your honour I will fill
    The world with songs of triumph, till
    You and I and Time are old
    Pipers of the Age of Gold.

    Time and you and I will hold,
    Everywhere by field and fold,
    Concerts of content, and be
    Known afar for jollity.

    Everywhere by fold and field
    We will wander well-agreed;
    So I sing right heartily,
    Come along and live with me.

James Stephens

Katty Gollagher (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    The hill is bare: I only find
        The grass, the sky, and one small tree
    Tossing wildly on the wind;
        And that is all there is to see:
    A tree, a hill, a wind, a sky
    Where nothing ever passes by.

James Stephens