"The green islands that were his morning hope
and his evening despair"

"The green islands that were his morning hope
and his evening despair"

Poetry--Twentieth Century--Patrick Kavanagh--Lough Derg

The poetry of Patrick Kavanagh's 'Lough Derg', detailing a visit in 1941

Patrick Kavanagh, 1904-1967

Kavanagh, Patrick, Lough Derg, p. 38-39

Goldsmith Press, The Curragh, Ireland

1978

Citation for the purposes of criticism

Published poem

English

Poetry chapbook

DD_0257

54.6083, -7.8714

“It was six o’clock in the evening
Robert sat looking over the lake
Seeing the green islands that were his morning hope
And his evening despair.
The sharp knife of Jansen
Cuts all the green branches,
Not sunlight comes in
But the hot-iron sin
Branding the shame
Of a beast in the Name
Of Christ on the breast
Of a child of the West
It was this he had read.
All day he was smitten
By this foul legend written
In the fields, in the skies,
In the sanctuaries,
But now the green tree
Of humanity
Was leafing again
Forgiveness of sin.
A shading hand over
The brow of the lover.”

Poems