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.

February 9, 1880

December 26, 1950

English

James Stephens

Page 4 of 6

Sweet-Apple

At the end of the bough, at the top of the tree
(As fragrant, as high, and as lovely as thou)
One sweet apple reddens which all men may see,
At the end of the bough.

Swinging full to the view, tho' the gatherers now
Pass, and evade, and o'erlook busily:
Overlook! nay, but pluck it! they cannot tell how.

For it swings out of reach as a cloud, and as free
As a star, or thy beauty, which seems too, I vow,
Remote as the sweet rosy apple - ah me!
At the end of the bough.

James Stephens

The Apology

    Do not be distant with me, do not be
        Angry because I drank deep of your wine,
    But treat that laughing matter laughingly
        Because I am a poet, and incline
    By nature and by art to jollity.

    Always I loved to see, I will aver,
        The good red tide lip at the flagon's brim,
    Sitting half fool and half philosopher,
        Chatting with every kind of her and him,
    And shrugged at sneer of money-gatherer.

    Often enough I trudge by hedge and wall,
        Too often there's no money in my purse,
    Nor malice in my mind ever at all,
        And for my songs no person is the worse
    But I who give all of my store to all.

    If busybody spoke to you of it,
        Say, kindly man, if kindly man do live:

James Stephens

The Apple Tree (The Adventures Of Seumas Beg)

    I was hiding in the crooked apple tree,
        Scouting for Indians, when a man came;
    I thought it was an Indian, for he
        Was running like the wind., There was a flame
    Of sunlight on his hand as he drew near,
        And then I saw a knife gripped in his fist.
    He panted like a horse; his eyes were queer,
        Wide-open, staring frightfully, and, hist!
    His mouth stared open like another eye,
        And all his hair was matted down with sweat.
    I crouched among the leaves for fear he'd spy
        Where I was hiding, so he did not get
    His awful eyes on me, but like the wind
    He fled as if he heard something behind.

James Stephens

The Appointment (The Adventures Of Seumas Beg)

    Tree! you are years standing there,
        Gripping tight to the side of the hill,
    And your branches are spread on the air,
        While you stand so sad and so still,
            And you do not complain
            When you're wet with the rain,
        Though I think you have often been ill.

    I would like (but it could not be done,
        So you must not keep me to my word)
    To take you away when the sun
        Goes down, and the breezes are stirred,
            And hug you in bed
            With myself, till you said
    That to sleep on a hill was absurd.

    O beautiful tree! when the night
        Is dark, and the winds come and scold,
    I would love then to cuddle you tight,
        For I fear you will die of the co...

James Stephens

The Bare Trees (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    Unfortunates, on the bare tree!
    I mourn for ye
    That have no place to house,
    But on those winter-white cold boughs
        To sit,
        (How far apart ye sit)
    And brood
    In this wide, wintry solitude
        That has no song at all to hearten it.

    Fly away, little birds!
        Fly away to Spain,
    Stay there all the winter
        Then come back again;
    Come back in the summer
        When the leaves are thick;
    Little weeny cold birds
        Fly away quick.

James Stephens

The Canal Bank (The Rocky Road To Dublin)

    I know a girl,
        And a girl knows me,
            And the owl says, what?
            And the owl says, who?
    But what we know
        We both agree
    That nobody else
        Shall hear or see,
    It's all between
        Herself and me:
            To wit? said the owl,
            To woo, said I,
        To-what, to-wit, to-woo!

James Stephens

The Cherry Tree (The Adventures Of Seumas Beg)

    Come from your bed my drowsy gentleman!
        And you, fair lady, rise and braid your hair,
    And let the children wash, if wash they can;
        If not, assist you them, and make them fair
    As is the morning and the morning sky,
        And every tree and bush and bird in air.

    The sun climbed on the heights three hours ago,
        He laughed above the hills and they were glad;
    With bubbled pearl he made the rivers flow
        And laced their mists in silver, and he clad
    The meads in fragrant pomp of green and gold,
        And bade the world forget it had been sad.

    So lift yourself, good sir! and you, sweet dame,
        Unlash your evening eyes of pious grey;
    Call on the children by each loved name,
 ...

James Stephens

The College Of Science (The Rocky Road To Dublin)
Who knows a thing and will not tell
Shall spend eternity in hell;
But he who learns and teaches free
In heaven spends eternity.

Around the Leinster Lawn we go
Into Molesworth Street, and so
To Saint Stephen's Green, where we
Hang a banner on a tree.
James Stephens

The College Of Surgeons (The Rocky Road To Dublin)
As I stood at the door
Sheltered out of the wind,
Something flew in
Which I hardly could find.

In the dim, gloomy doorway
I searched till I found
A dry withered leaf
Lying down on the ground.

With thin, pointed claws
And a dry dusty skin,,
Sure a hall is no place
For a leaf to be in!

Oh where is your tree,
And your summer and all,
Poor dusty leaf
Whistled into a hall?
James Stephens

The Coolun
Come with me, under my coat,
And we will drink our fill
Of the milk of the white goat,
Or wine if it be thy will;
And we will talk until
Talk is a trouble, too,
Out on the side of the hill,
And nothing is left to do,
But an eye to look into an eye
And a hand in a hand to slip,
And a sigh to answer a sigh,
And a lip to find out a lip:
What if the night be black
And the air on the mountain chill,
Where the goat lies down in her track
And all but the fern is still!
Stay with me, under my coat,
And we will drink our fill
Of the milk of the white goat
Out on the side of the hill.
James Stephens

The Coral Island (The Adventures Of Seumas Beg)
His arms were round a chest of oaken wood,
It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed
An awful weight. After a while he stood
And I stole near to him., His white eyes gleamed
As he peeped secretly about; he laid
The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew
A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade
Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew
In all directions underneath a tree,
And when the hole was deep he put the box
Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly,
Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox
He crept among the trees.... I went next day
To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way.
James Stephens

The County Mayo
Now with the coming in of the spring the days will stretch a bit,
And after the Feast of Brigid I shall hoist my flag and go,
For since the thought got into my head I can neither stand nor sit
Until I find myself in the middle of the County of Mayo.

In Claremorris I would stop a night and sleep with decent men,
And then go on to Balla just beyond and drink galore,
And next to Kiltimagh for a visit of about a month, and then
I would only be a couple of miles away from Ballymore.

I say and swear my heart lifts up like the lifting of a tide,
Rising up like the rising wind till fog or mist must go,
When I remember Carra and Gallen close beside,
And the Gap of the Two Bushes, and the wide plains of Mayo.

To Killaden...
James Stephens

The Cow (The Adventures Of Seumas Beg)
Cow, Cow!
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes
You are lying on the grass
Eating every time I pass,
And you do not seem to be
Ever in perplexity:
You are good I'm sure, and not
Fit for nothing but the pot:
For your bearing is so kind,
And your quietness so wise:
Cow, Cow!
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes.
James Stephens

The Daisies
In the scented bud of the morning - O,
When the windy grass went rippling far,
I saw my dear one walking slow
In the field where the daisies are.

We did not laugh and we did not speak
As we wandered happily to and fro;
I kissed my dear on either cheek
In the bud of the morning - O.

A lark sang up from the breezy land,
A lark sang down from a cloud afar,
And she and I went hand in hand
In the field where the daisies are.
James Stephens

The Devil's Bag (The Adventures Of Seumas Beg)
I saw the Devil walking down the lane
Behind our house., There was a heavy bag
Strapped tightly on his shoulders, and the rain
Sizzled when it hit him. He picked a rag
Up from the ground and put it in his sack,
And grinned and rubbed his hands.
There was a thing
Moving inside the bag upon his back,
It must have been a soul! I saw it fling
And twist about inside, and not a hole
Or cranny for escape! Oh, it was sad!
I cried, and shouted out, "Let out that soul!"
But he turned round, and, sure, his face went mad,
And twisted up and down, and he said "Hell!"
And ran away.... Oh, mammy! I'm not well.
James Stephens

The Dodder Bank (The Rocky Road To Dublin)
When no flower is nigh, you might
Spy a weed with deep delight;
So, when far from saints and bliss,
God might give a sin a kiss.
James Stephens

The Fifteen Acres (The Rocky Road To Dublin)
I cling and swing
On a branch, or sing
Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O:
Or fling my wing
On the air, and bring
To sleepier birds a warning, O:
That the night's in flight,
And the sun's in sight,
And the dew is the grass adorning, O:
And the green leaves swing
As I sing, sing, sing,
Up by the river,
Down the dell,
To the little wee nest,
Where the big tree fell,
So early in the morning, O.

I flit and twit
In the sun for a bit
When his light so bright is shining, O:
Or sit and fit
My plumes, or knit
Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, ...
James Stephens

The Fur Coat (The Rocky Road To Dublin)
I walked out in my Coat of Pride,
I looked about on every side,
And said the mountains should not be
Just where they were, and that the sea
Was badly placed, and that the beech
Should be an oak, and then from each
I turned in dignity as if
They were not there: I sniffed a sniff,
And climbed upon my sunny shelf,
And sneezed a while, and scratched myself.
James Stephens

Page 4 of 6

Previous
Next

Page 4 of 6