Poag Ma Hoan

essays and extracts on irish literature

His earliest me…

His earliest memory, the mood
fingered and frail as maidenhair,
Was this – a china cup somewhere
In a green, deep wood.
He lives to find again somewhere
That wood, that homely cup; to taste all
Its chill, imagined dews; to dare
The dangerous crystal.

C. Day Lewis, Passage from Childhood, 1951.


Shall I be gone…

Shall I be gone long?
For ever and a day.
To whom there belong?
Ask the stone to say,
Ask my song.

C. Day Lewis, Is it far to go? , 1951.