WRITER
Irwin really does paint with words – all the colours he uses in this poem which starts off talking off ‘grey noons’, blue water-flies, yellow sallows, red brick mansion… not to mention the suggested colours of teh autumn leaves, the ivieds orcahrd wall, grass, glassy cool, meadow pool, moulting sunlight, sandy beach – this would […]
MoreSonnet VIII Upon an upland orchard’s sunny side, I pass the quiet blue September day: There winds through tented fields they sometimes hide, Past woods and meadows green, the dusty way, Down to the ship-speckled level of the bay, And amber sands in crescent spreading wide. Last night the winds were in the trees, and […]
MoreAn isle of trees full foliaged in a meadow, Along whose quiet grassy shores below The white sheep bathe in level lengths of shadow, And sweet airs amiable as summer blow Warmly and faint among the happy leaves, Loving each other in a green repose Folded; or waking in the slumbrous glow Where the wind […]
MoreThe Irish poet Thomas Caulfield Irwin, born in 1823, is largely forgotten. He was born in Warrenpoint in County Down, Ireland, the son of a doctor; his family were very wealthy and it seems he was one of those young gentlemen who completed their education by travelling on the continent with a private tutor, and he even went […]
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Lois Elsden 