Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

The Ballad Of Father OHart

 Good Father John O'Hart
In penal days rode out
To a Shoneen who had free lands
And his own snipe and trout.
In trust took he John's lands; Sleiveens were all his race; And he gave them as dowers to his daughters.
And they married beyond their place.
But Father John went up, And Father John went down; And he wore small holes in his Shoes, And he wore large holes in his gown.
All loved him, only the shoneen, Whom the devils have by the hair, From the wives, and the cats, and the children, To the birds in the white of the air.
The birds, for he opened their cages As he went up and down; And he said with a smile, 'Have peace now'; And he went his way with a frown.
But if when anyone died Came keeners hoarser than rooks, He bade them give over their keening; For he was a man of books.
And these were the works of John, When, weeping score by score, People came into Colooney; For he'd died at ninety-four.
There was no human keening; The birds from Knocknarea And the world round Knocknashee Came keening in that day.
The young birds and old birds Came flying, heavy and sad; Keening in from Tiraragh, Keening from Ballinafad; Keening from Inishmurray.
Nor stayed for bite or sup; This way were all reproved Who dig old customs up.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - The Ballad Of Father OHartEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

Top William Butler Yeats Poems

Analysis and Comments on The Ballad Of Father OHart

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Ballad Of Father OHart here.