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Padraic Colum - Crows
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THEN, suddenly, I was aware indeed
Of what he said, and was revolving it:
How, in the night, crows often take to wing,
Rising from off the tree-tops in Drumbarr,
And flying on: I pictured what he told.

The crows that shake the night-damp off their wings
Upon the stones out yonder in the fields,
The first live things that we see in the mornings;
The crows that march across the fields, that sit
Upon the ash-trees` branches, that fly home
And crowd the elm-tops over in Drumbarr;
The crows we look on at all hours of light,
Growing, and full, and going these black beings have
Another lifetime!

Crows flying in the dark
Blackness in darkness flying; beings unseen
Except by eyes that are like to their own
Trespassers` eyes!

And you, old man, with eyes so quick and sharp,
Who`ve told me of the crows, my fosterer;
And you, old woman, upon whose lap I`ve lain
When I was taken from my mother`s lap;
And you, young girl, with looks that have come down
From forefathers, my kin ye have another life
I`ve glimpsed it, I becoming trespasser-
Blackness in darkness flying like the crows!
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