The heaped up sods upon the fire

AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS

O, to have a little house !

To own the hearth and stool and all !

The heaped up sods upon the fire

The pile of turf against the wall
!

To have a clock with weights and chains,

And pendulum swinging up and down !

A dresser filled with shiny delph,

Speckled with white and blue and brown !

I could be busy all the day

Cleaning and sweeping hearth and floor,

And fixing on their shelf again

My white and blue and speckled store !

I could be quiet there at night

Beside the fire and by myself,

Sure of a bed , and loth to leave

The ticking clock and shining delph !

Och ! but I’m  weary of mist and dark,

And roads where there’s never a house or bush,

And tired I am of bog and road,

And the crying wind and the lonesome hush !

And I am praying to God on high,

And I am praying him night and day,

For a little house – a house of my own-

Out of the wind’s and rain’s way

                                                                PADRAIC COLUM