I do not share the wish to see my language dead and decently buried.
quote by Douglas Hyde
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Every crag and gnarled tree and lonely valley has its own strange and graceful legend attached to it.
quote by Douglas Hyde
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It is a most disgraceful shame the way in which Irishmen are brought up. They are ashamed of their language, institutions, and of everything Irish.
quote by Douglas Hyde
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As our language wanes and dies, the golden legends of the far-off centuries fade and pass away. No one sees their influence upon culture; no one sees their educational power.
quote by Douglas Hyde
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I - and there are hundreds of thousands of Irishmen who felt on this subject as I do - have always liked my Celtic countrymen and disliked the English nation; it is a national trait of character, and I cannot help it.
quote by Douglas Hyde
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A Poem To Be Said On Hearing The Birds Sing
A fragrant prayer upon the air
My child taught me,
Awaken there, the morn is fair,
The birds sing free;
Now dawns the day, awake and pray,
And bend the knee;
The Lamb who lay beneath the clay
Was slain for thee.
poem by Douglas Hyde
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I Am Raferty
I am Raferty the Poet
Full of hope and love,
With eyes that have no light,
With gentleness that has no misery.
Going west upon my pilgrimage
By the light of my heart,
Feeble and tired
To the end of my road.
Behold me now,
And my face to the wall,
A-playing music
Unto empty pockets.
poem by Douglas Hyde
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My Grief on the Sea
MY grief on the sea,
How the waves of it roll!
For they heave between me
And the love of my soul!
Abandon'd, forsaken,
To grief and to care,
Will the sea ever waken
Relief from despair?
My grief and my trouble!
Would he and I were,
In the province of Leinster,
Or County of Clare!
Were I and my darling--
O heart-bitter wound!--
On board of the ship
For America bound.
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poem by Douglas Hyde
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I shall not die for thee
FOR thee, I shall not die,
Woman of high fame and name;
Foolish men thou mayest slay
I and they are not the same.
Why should I expire
For the fire of an eye,
Slender waist or swan-like limb,
Is't for them that I should die?
The round breasts, the fresh skin,
Cheeks crimson, hair so long and rich;
Indeed, indeed, I shall not die,
Please God, not I, for any such.
The golden hair, the forehead thin,
The chaste mien, the gracious ease,
The rounded heel, the languid tone,—
Fools alone find death from these.
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poem by Douglas Hyde
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Colum-Cille’s Farewell To Ireland
ALAS for the voyage, O High King of Heaven,
Enjoined upon me,
For that I on the red plain of bloody Cooldrevin
Was present to see.
How happy the son is of Dima; no sorrow
For him is designed,
He is having, this hour, round his own hill in Durrow,
The wish of his mind.
The sounds of the winds in the elms, like strings of
A harp being played,
The note of a blackbird that claps with the wings of
Delight in the shade.
With him in Ros-Grencha the cattle are lowing
At earliest dawn,
On the brink of the summer the pigeons are cooing
And doves in the lawn.
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poem by Douglas Hyde
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