With a wee bit of the blarney, Liz and I discussed other world things - faeries , leprechauns and the such and how important we felt the connection to family is- to those both living and dead.
While my Irish ancestors came from County Cork and immigrated to America, Liz's family hailed from northern Ireland and immigrated to Canada. Her great-grandfather, Albert Ernest Stafford Smythe published his book of poetry, "The Garden of the Sun" in 1923. Although no longer in print, I highly recommend his work and encourage those interested in poetry to search for a copy in used book stores or on line. A fine example of Smythe's writing is the last stanza of his poem, "The Pilgrim's Journey" where that longing for new adventure is felt; Until coming at last to a place of solace and contentment.
"So the joys of the pilgrim's journey
are the summits that never cease
the crests of renewed endeavor
and the valleys of rest and peace"
The poems I chose to share with Liz are ones my Grandma Vera Cooney wrote in 1915 while she was still in high school. The poems aren't published, but hand written on a yellowed old style notebook. Grandma wrote poems on every subject - or so it seems - long verse, short verse, silly and serious. I think " Log Cabin School" is one of her best during that period. Seven stanza's in all, this one can stand alone in describing an early American log cabin school.
"In those days, no glass windows were found at all
just a hide or skin over a hole in the wall,
The hard packed ground served as a floor
and the only opening was one little door"
Before leaving , Liz and I raised a pint and clinked our mugs together for one final toast; To Vera E. Cooney and Albert Ernest Stafford Smythe. We cheered their poetry and their life, and thanked them for sharing St. Patrick's Day with us.
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