Cobh

Cobh was hearsay's town,

Circle-dot on geography's green,

Now it's a place I've been:

Gay as poppies in the thatch

Where chimneys float out stars

Above tavern brass and bars

Glisten with bubbling brew.

While whiskey comforts throats

Speech and song give notes

Deep as old beggars' thoughts,

Or myths in quiet verses,

Or a brawler's thick-tongued curses.

Priests kneel at Heaven's gate

To hear a jockey's plea.

Girls pressed to their men on the quay

Rise as waves in the tumult of love.

They gamble truth's brief time

Against kisses or quicklime.