Happy St. Patrick's Day!
In honor of the wearing of the green -- and the drinking of the beer -- we have posted the now-classic poem by Emmett Lee Dickinson about the holiday, "I bring an oft-accustomed ale," below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "I bring an unaccustomed wine," below on the right.
In honor of the wearing of the green -- and the drinking of the beer -- we have posted the now-classic poem by Emmett Lee Dickinson about the holiday, "I bring an oft-accustomed ale," below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "I bring an unaccustomed wine," below on the right.
| By Emmett Lee Dickinson: I bring an oft-accustomed ale To lips long parching, dry and frail, And summon them to drink. Flowing with flavor, they essay; I turn my brimming eyes that way With Happy Hour in sync The hands still hug the foamy glass; The lips I have now cooled, at last! Are so refreshingly cold, I would as soon attempt to cool More glasses where the frost does pool Aged amber brew so bold. Some others thirsty there may be To which they all have pointed me Where I remain to drink. And so I always bear the stein If, happily, the beer is mine Some pilgrim thirst to slake – If, happily, they say to me, “Erin go bragh,” unto me With them I shall partake. | By Emily Dickinson: I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to mine, And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay; I turn my brimming eyes away, And come next hour to look. The hands still hug the tardy glass; The lips I would have cooled, alas! Are so superfluous cold, I would as soon attempt to warm The bosoms where the frost has lain Ages beneath the mould. Some other thirsty there may be To whom this would have pointed me Had it remained to speak. And so I always bear the cup If, haply, mine may be the drop Some pilgrim thirst to slake – If, haply, any say to me, "Unto the little, unto me," When I at last awake. |
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