Padraic Colum (1881–1972). Anthology of Irish Verse. 1922.By T. D. OBolger
54. The Counsels of ORiordan, the Rann Maker
A pigeon’s egg is as crafty as the stars.
My heart is shaken by the crying of the lap-wing,
And yet the world is full of foolish wars.
There’s struggling discourse in the grunting of a pig:
Yet churls will be scheming, and churls will be scorning,
And half the dim world is ruled by thimble-rig.
But the gates of Hell are in the city street
For him whose soul is not in his own keeping
And love a silver string upon his feet.
My spirit is the axle of God’s dream.
Why should my august soul be worn or care-tost?…
Lo, God is but a lamp, and I his gleam.
But an ant will burrow through a five-inch wall;
There’s nothing rises up or falls down blindly:
That’s a poor share of wisdom, but it’s all.