Poem – The Poor Girl’s Meditation- Padraic Colum

I am  sitting here 

Since the moon rose in the night, 

Kindling a fire, 

And striving to keep it alight; 

The folk of the house are lying 

In slumber deep; 

The geese will be gabbling soon: 

The whole of the land is asleep. 
May I never leave this world 

Until my ill-luck is gone; 

Till I have cows and sheep, 

And the lad that I love for my own; 

I would not think it long, 

The night I would lie at his breast, 

And the daughters of spite, after that, 

Might say the thing they liked best. 
Love takes the place of hate, 

If a girl have beauty at all: 

On a bed that was narrow and high, 

A three-month I lay by the wall: 

When I bethought on the lad 

That I left on the brow of the hill, 

I wept from dark until dark, 

And my cheeks have the tear-tracks still. 
And, O young lad that I love, 

I am no mark for your scorn; 

All you can say of me is 

Undowered I was born: 

And if I’ve no fortune in hand, 

Nor cattle and sheep of my own, 

This I can say, O lad, 

I am fitted to lie my lone!

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About भण्डारी2013

Has a reflective and idealistic types of personality. Loves to participate in Social activities. Extremely loyal by nature. Laid back unless a strongly held value is threatened and a talented writer too.
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