Tinker's Moon

Four children on a rumbling cart,
A woman trudging beside that load,
A lank man leaving the horse to guide
A wet road: a dry road:
A gravelly road that a woman shall walk
And a lank man leave the horse to guide;
The tinker's children take their chance, and bide.
A lane leads on to one more lane,
An uphill to one more hill:
A potato patch to thin on the way, a hen to kill,
And hunger again: and sleep again:
And a moonlight flit while the salmon leaps
From a smouldering spot by the riverside;
The tinker's children take their chance, and bide.
When Wicklow woods first seemed to wait,
As still they wait tonight;
I heard that creaking, rumbling cart,
And stars the same were out.
When you gave pennies to the younger child,
A silent child: a tawny child:
The tinker's children meekly are, and mild.
And still I hear strange woods among
Whenever a creaking cart goes down;
The singsong twang of the bawneen man:
"Thank you my lady, thank you my lady,"
As when you gave t…