This never was my town,
I was not born or bred
Nor schooled here and she will not
Have me alive or dead
But yet she holds my mind
With her seedy elegance,
With her gentle veils of rain
And all her ghosts that walk
And all that hide behind
Her Georgian facades -
The catcalls and the pain,
The glamour of her squalor,
The bravado of her talk.
The rest of it's here if you don't know it - beautiful.Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Life in the pale
I've got about a million posts brewing, and now the boxes are unpacked and I've stopped waking up wondering where we're living now, there's hope of getting to them soon. But in the meantime, here's Louis MacNeice describing my relationship with Dublin better than I ever could myself:
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2 comments:
That poem makes me feel like such an american! at least I can follow your blog... :)
What a beautiful poem. Although a Dubliner through and through, I've never heard it before. Thank you for sharing it with us. Maria x
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