Poem by Francis Ledwidge

Old Clo

I was just coming in from the garden,
Or about to go fishing for eels,
And, smiling, I asked you to pardon
My boots very low at the heels.
And I thought that you never would go,
As you stood in the doorway ajar,
For my heart would keep saying, 'Old Clo',
You're found out at last as you are.'

I was almost ashamed to acknowledge
That I was the quarry you sought,
For was I not bred in a college
And reared in a mansion, you thought.
And now in the latest style cut
With fortune more kinder I go
To welcome you half-ways. Ah ( but
I was nearer the gods when ' Old Clo'.' 

1. After Court Martial
2. Ceol Sidhe
3. Una Bawn
4. Lament for Thomas Mcdonagh
5. Thoughts at the Trysting Stile

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