". . .IT IS NOW THE TIME...THESE BE THE DAYS. . ."

one day
blossomed
into another

Spring
was seen
walking in the wood

Time
lay scattered
all around

last Tuesday was
a bunch of flowers
wilting in a vase

Tomorrow
remained
to be plucked

as if he grasped
the mystery
of the world

in his tiny fist
that now
( this now )

was the only
time
that could be

life is simple
when one is
      3



And indeed to my little three year old self( although I would not encountered the poem itself until I was twelve)the world to me was a most miraculous marvelous and magnificent place to find myself in...I was living in the first verse of Mangan's poem and...loving it!

Any school boy of my generation would know James Clarence Mangan's A Vision of Connaught in the Thirteenth Century with its hypnotic refrain...which got stuck in my brain.

"But it was the time,
'T was in the reign,
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand."
"And it is the time.
These be the days,
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand!"
"It is now the time.
These be the years.
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand!"
'T was then the time.
We were in the days.
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand.
That I dreamed this dream
Of the time and reign
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand




A VISION OF CONNAUGHT IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY

I walked entranced
Through a land of morn;
The sun, with wondrous excess of light,
Shone down and glanced
Over seas of corn
And lustrous gardens aleft and right.
Even in the clime
Of resplendent Spain
Beams no such sun upon such a land;
But it was the time,
'T was in the reign,
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand.
Anon stood nigh
By my side a man
Of princely aspect and port sublime.
Him queried I,
"O my Lord and Khan,
What clime is this, and what golden time?"
When he,—" The clime
Is a clime to praise,
The clime is Erin's, the green and bland;
And it is the time.
These be the days,
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand!"
Then saw I thrones
And circling fires,
And a dome rose near me, as by a spell.
Whence flowed the tones
Of silver lyres.
And many voices in wreathed swell;
And their thrilling chime
Fell on mine ears
As the heavenly hymn of an angel-band,—
"It is now the time.
These be the years.
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand!"
I sought the hall,
And, behold! a change
From light to darkness, from joy to woe!
King, nobles, all,
Looked aghast and strange;
The minstrel-group sate in dumbest show!
Had some great crime
Wrought this dread amaze,
This terror? None seemed to understand!
'T was then the time.
We were in the days.
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand.
I again walked forth;
But lo! the sky
Showed fleckt with blood, and an alien sun
Glared from the north,
And there stood on high,
Amid his shorn beams, a skeleton!
It was by the stream
Of the castled Main,
One autumn eve, in the Teuton's land.
That I dreamed this dream
Of the time and reign
Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand