The Rocky Road to Dublin

James Stephens

Macmillan and Co., Ltd, St. Martin's Street London

1915

College Green

When you meet an ancient man,
Be as silent as you can;
So when old age comes to you,
Courtesies shall gather too.
And King Billy's horse will start
From our street and from our heart,
When each Irishman shall be
Perfected in courtesy.

Mount Street

Here and there on the wings of night
A fleck of blue and purple light,
A scrap of cloud, a bird, a star,
A comet hurrying afar
On the abyss, and the moon
Standing in her silver shoon.
On the summit of the sky,
Delicate and proud and high,
The silver moon on a silver sea
Spins her silver broidery
While the stars send down a light
Here and there on the wings of night.

Westland Row

Every Sunday there's a throng
Of pretty girls, who trot along
In a pious, breathless state
(They are nearly always late)
To the Chapel, where they pray
For the sins of Saturday.
They have frocks of white and blue,
Yellow sashes they have too,
And red ribbons show each head
Tenderly is ringleted;
And the bell rings loud, and the
Railway whistles urgently.
After Chapel they will go,
Walking delicately slow,
Telling still how Father John
Is so good to look upon,
And such other grave affairs
As they thought of during prayers.

The College of Science

Who knows a thing and will not tell
Shall spend eternity in hell;
But he who learns and teaches free
In heaven spends eternity.
Around the Leinster Lawn we go
Into Molesworth Street, and so
To Saint Stephen's Green, where we
Hang a banner on a tree.

Dublin Men

A Dublin man will frown when he
Hears a tale of villainy;
But when a kindness you relate,
He swings and whistles on the gate.

O'Connell Bridge

In Dublin town the people see
Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously,
They are finer, I declare,
Than the clouds of anywhere.
A swirl of blue and red and green,
A stream of blinding gold, a sheen
From silver hill and pearly ridge
Comes each evening on the bridge.
So when you walk in a field, look down,
Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown,
But in a city look always high
And watch the beautiful clouds go by.

Charlotte Street

Inside a soap shop, down a lane,
A big bee buzzed on a window-pane,
Climbing the cold glass up and down;
Bee, what brought you into town?
You are tired and hungry and scarce alive,
Poor old Shaggy-Tail! where's your hive?

George's Street

Listen! if but women were
Half as kind as they are fair,
There would be an end to all
Miseries that do befall.
Cloud and wind would run together
In a dance of sunny weather,
And the happy trees would throw
Gifts to travellers below.
Then the lion, meek and mild,
With the lamb would, side by side,
Couch him friendly, and would be
Innocent of enmity.
Then the Frozen Pole would go,
Tossing off his fields of snow,
And would shake delighted feet
With the girls of George's Street.
These, if women only were
Half as kind as they are fair.