Irish Hearth-side Poems

Ireland has not sent us, so often as we might expect, illustrations of the simple Catholic Faith that, amid her various vicissitudes, has remained her chief wealth and glory. Too often have her literary spokesmen been the exponents of strange, exotic creeds—ancient and modern. A modest little volume of thoroughly Catholic thought and feeling now comes to us from the long-established press of James Duffy. It is recommended in a preface written by Mrs. Helena Concannon, Senator of the Free State and well known in the world of Irish letters. Its author is Miss Kate A. Fox, whose name appears but shyly in the volume. “There is heart’s ease,” Mrs. Concannon says of its contents; and the commendation is fully justified. There is beauty, spiritual and domestic, attuned sometimes to the unspoiled freshness of an Irish countryside; at other times, to the rhythm of daily toil in a household of the “class-conscious city.”

These fifteen pieces, produced during the short leisures from toil often fatiguing, far away from the rural home in the somewhat wild and rugged County Leitrim, have appealed to many Irish hearts and might, we believe, appeal to many in Australia, especially to those whom exile or recent miseries have brought to know much of labours unloved or hard to love. Memories of a mother throng the heart of a parting exile; the mother has gone to a happier world; the child is left doubly an exile:

And now I kneel for the last time
Where first I knelt to pray.

But brighter pictures are here, too; that of the friendly neighbours gathered for the ceilidhe at nightfall, circling around

The fire that flickers and gleams;

that of a summer day in the bog,

Ringed round by brown heather hills,
With the blackbird’s clear song overhead,
Where a little brook ripples and thrills,

But regrets and longings and simple joys are alike absorbed into the love and gratitude of quiet but intense religious utterances. One feels an art higher than that learnt in schools when the tired girl feels it hard to be “at everybody’s calling,” but recovers at the sight of the Crucifix and the Mother of Sorrows; when she remembers how the mere children of her household must be called “Master” This and “Master” That, but adds:

And yet I know, above the din,
There’s still an eye that sees us,
And sometime when this life is o’er,
I hope to call Him Jesus.

We should be glad to think the book may obtain in Australia the notice it deserves.

—G.O’N.

Notes

Book review published in The Advocate (Melbourne). Father George O’Neill, S.J. (1863–1947), was a Professor of English Language at University College, Dublin, and later a Professor in Corpus Christi College, Victoria, Australia.

Fr O’Neill’s book review is mentioned in the tribute piece “Father George O’Neill, S.J.: An Appreciation” by Elenor Butler. The Irish Monthly, 76(898), 178–182. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20515795.