Analysis of Blackbird Piping

(To the memory of the Irish poet- Francis Ledwidge)

When I drive through Slane I think of you,Francis,
Who died in France on the 31st of July in 1917,
Not because of your demise in that war
But because I also heard the blackbird piping.

He has piped down the passage of my years,
Like a wild poet of the hedgerows
Calling me to join the bards
As you did years ago
Near to the Boyne.

Like Kavanagh
You knew the coming and the going of the seasons:
'The swallow crowding up the dawn' in Spring,
'Truth of beauty' in Summer fields,
'Leafy winds' of Autumn and your heart
'Like a sod in winter rain'.

Experiences (and more)
Which you have painted in your verse...
And I am glad that you have seen the beauty of my County with its City alongside the Foyle, for there I too Ramble,using words to convey truth, love, and beauty Which cannot be separated from life for all are one.

Yes, you are a piper, Francis, calling us through your Poetry to perceive life's origin and mystery and, finally, Today at Slane 'The blackbird calls a- down the street Like the Piper of Hamelin.