Category Archives: Art

Be my speech the beams of the sun



BUAINIDH mi an earr reidh,
Gum bu cheinide mo chruth,
Gum bu bhlathaide mo bheuil,
Gum bu gheinide mo ghuth.
Biodh mo ghuth mar ghath na grein,
Biodh mo bheuil mar ein nan subh.

Gum bu h-eilean mi air muir,
Gum bu tulach mi air tir,
Gum bu reuil mi ri ra dorcha,
Gum bu lorg mi dhuine cli,
Leonaidh mi a h-uile duine,
Cha leoin duine mi.


I WILL pluck the yarrow fair,
That more benign shall be my face,
That more warm shall be my lips,
That more chaste shall be my speech,
Be my speech the beams of the sun,
Be my lips the sap of the strawberry.

May I be an isle in the sea,
May I be a hill on the shore,
May I be a star in waning of the moon,
May I be a staff to the weak,
Wound can I every man,
Wound can no man me


From  Carmina Gadelica, Volume 2, by Alexander Carmicheal, [1900]

Illustration is a digitally altered illustration from the original :

Plantarum effigies /è Leonartho Fuschio, ac quinque diuersis linguis redditae …  by Leonhart 1501 – 1566







Song of Wandering Aengus

the Song of wandering Aengus W BYeats


I love this poem and keep going back to it for lots of different projects.  There is something deeply resonant in the melancholic longing that Yeats expresses, promising beauty and meaning, offering the perpetual challenge to discover the unattainable, the unimaginable.

The illustration is from a walk I took a few years ago in Christchurch England, alone and tranquil. Somehow fitting.

Six years ago

cris in a hopper  digital media Anne Corr

Tears, no tears

Fifteen years I wanted to cry;
wished I would,
wanted the comfort of knowing I could.
An elephant dies
and I am drowning,
choking in emotion, and you say
“it’s just
a programme on t.v,
children in Africa die
all the time;”
What did that mean?
Should that have been the dam;
plugged this
embarassment of riches,
dried me up?
You’re twelve, tortoise -shelled
to shield from
all the carnage. You see;
you just don’t see
the point ; all the tears in the world
won’t cleanse the pain.

You see it true. Unflinching.

I want to be brave like you,

wanting to live
never forgetting
how to pitch

your weight against the day.


The sooner you begin……..

Brown Penny
I whispered, “I am too young,”
And then, “I am old enough”;
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
“Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.”
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.
— William Butler Yeats

I absolutely love the second  verse of this poem , it’s musicality and lyric qualities. It has a wonderful throwback quality to nursery rhyme with its rhythm and how ‘the stars had run away, and the shadows eaten the moon.’

Makes me gentle. Not a bad accomplishment Mr Yeats, for a string of words.

Andrew Wyeth - Wind from the Sea, 1947

Wind from the Sea  Andrew Wyeth