Poems (Tynan)/In Iona
IN IONA
O 'tis pleasant in Iona Whether in shine or snow! Grand it is in Iona When the north winds blow. The birds sing sweet in Iona, O very sweet and low! But sore I miss in Iona A voice I used to know.
Iona hath the song-birds, And the hum of the bees, The distant bark of house-dogs, And the wind in the trees. She hath the singing cricket, And the moan of the seas,But never the low of cattle My homesick heart to ease.
The wee black cow of Kerry Is docile and kind; The big-framed cow of Leinster Is much to my mind; The wild little cow of the mountains Who shall loose or bind? Sweet is the call of the milkmaid Borne upon the wind.
Columba, he has said it: "Wherever a cow shall be, There shall be found a woman, Her wiles and witchery.And in this Holy Island, May God forbid that she Should plague with sore temptation My holy men and me."
And since the kine are banished. Heavy my heart doth go. O sweet it is in Iona Whatever wind will blow. But I, the farmer brother, My tears are sad and slow For the low of the kindly cattle, The voice I used to know.