Garadh

FOR the poor body that I own
I could weep many a tear:
The days have stolen flesh and bone,
And left a changeling here.

Four feeble bones are left to me,
And the basket of my breast,
And I am mean and ugly now
As the scald flung from the nest.

The briars drag me at the knee,
The brambles go within,
And often do I feel him turn,
The old man in my skin.

The strength is carded from my bones,
The swiftness drained from me,
And all the living thoughts I had
Are like far ships at sea!

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Padraic Colum

Padraic Colum was an Irish poet, novelist, dramatist, biographer, playwright, children's author and collector of folklore. more…

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"Garadh by Padraic Colum" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 16 Jan. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/28462>.

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