A Connaught Lament

Nora Hopper Chesson

Nora Hopper Chesson portrait

1871 to 1906

Poem Image
Track 1

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Because of the words your lips have spoken,
Of my own love's footstep would break my rest!
O lips forgetful and kindness fickle,
Where fields are empty and scythes at rest.
(O dear black head that I must not follow)
My heart in my bosom is black as a sloe!
I am the poppy and you the sickle;
My heart is a grave that is stripped and hollow,
As ice on the water my heart is broken.
But O were I dead, were I dust, the fall
The swallow goes south with you: I go west
Like a flying leaf in the sky's blue hollow
The heart in my breast is, that beats so low.
My heart is broken within my breast.
I heed not cuckoo, nor wren, nor swallow:
I will arise and go hence to the west,
And dig me a grave where the hill-winds call;

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Poet portrait