Unique Word Count: 191
Maidin mhoch ar m’éirí amach ar bhruacha Locha Léin, Bhí an féar go glas ‘s an bláth lena ais ‘gus lonradh te ón ghréin; Ar mo chasadh dom trí bhailte poirt agus bánta míne réídh’, Cé gheobhainn lem ais ach cúileann deas le fáinne geal a’ lae. Ní raibh bróg ná stoc, caidhp ná clóc, ar mo stór mar scáth ón spéir Ach gruaig a cinn léi síos go feor ‘gus amach go barr a méar; Bhí calán crúite aici ina glaic ‘s ar dhrúcht bá dheas a scéimh, ‘S gur thug barr gean’ ar Véineas dheas le fáinne geal a’ lae. Do shuigh an bhrídeach síos lem’ ais ar bhinse glas den fhéar. Da mealladh a bhíos, s á mhaíomh go pras mar mhnaoi nach scarfainn léi. Is é a dúirt sí liom ‘Ná bris mo chlú is scaoil mé ar shiúl, a réic! Siúd iad aneas na soilse ag teacht le fainne geal a’ lae. Do shil gach deoir lena leacain ghil mar a thiteann drúcht den fhéar, Á rá’ Tar liom is pós mé anois mar gheall tú dhom roimh ré; Siúil le m’ais agus fill mo mheas le ceangal ceart ón chléir, ‘S ná séan do chleas a mhill an bhean le fáinne geal a’ lae’. ‘Bhuel, caithfeadsa diúltú a thabhairt anois le fonn duit, a ainnir shéimh,’ Dá rá ‘Bí ar shiúl uaim, a bhean, táim dlúth ar nasc roimh ré; Cúig chéad punt ‘s iad a fháil im’ ghlaic mar chúinse as is talamh saor, Le cailín deas ó Bheanntraí aneas le fáinne geal a’ lae’. Do bhéarfainn comhairle do chailín deas dá nglacfadh sí uaim é, Gan dul amach ag crú a bó ‘dtí go dtigeadh teas don ghréin; Le heagla na bhfear ag gabháil aneas nár thrua leo siúd a scéal, Dá mbeadh baibín óg aici ina glaic le fáinne geal a’ lae.
One morning early I went out On the shore of Lough Leinn The leafy trees of summertime And the warm rays of the sun As I wandered through the townlands And the luscious grassy plains Who should I meet but a beautiful maid At the dawning of the day Not a shoe, nor sock, nor cape, nor cloak Had the maiden from the sky Her golden hair in tresses hung And touched the grass up high In her hand she held a milking pail In the dew she looked so fair Her beauty excelled even Helen of Troy At the dawning of the day The young maiden sat by my side On a green grassy bench Joking her and claiming That I'd never part with her She turned and said, "Please go away You are not wide awake" Here come the lights, I must be gone With the dawning of the day
-Na Casaidigh a d’aistrigh
On Raglan Road of an autumn day I saw her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare That I might one day rue; I saw the danger, and I passed Along the enchanted way And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf At the dawning of the day On Grafton Street in November We tripped lightly along the ledge Of a deep ravine where can be seen The worth of passion's pledge The Queen of Hearts still making tarts And I not making hay - Oh I loved too much And by such by such Is happiness thrown away I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign That's known to the artists who have known The true gods of sound and stone And word and tint without stint I gave her poems to say With her own name there and her own dark hair Like clouds over fields of May On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly My reason must allow That I had loved not as I should A creature made of clay - When the angel woos the clay he'd lose His wings at the dawn of day
-Patrick Kavanagh