VAN GOGH IN THE GLENS
“What if Van Gogh, already half deaf and pelt bare;
One simmering summer had taken by storm the nine glens;
Had stirred the plouting mists lying across Lubitavish and Trostan;
Had embraced among fire and flame the crimson thistle;
That beards the steep-jawed axe quarries of Cushendun;
Had looked into the black, pile-driving wind at buckled oaks;
Had fashioned in hot ice the spray forenenst Glenarm.
What if he had lead the headless Shane up Tievebulliagh;
Had guided O’Neill fingers across each stone cairn;
Had said, listen to the shape of it, had painted
A wind rainbowed with Ossian’s roar and Hewitt’s whisper.
Had he been quickened to rage at the way things are with us:
He might yet help unbend us with a bit of that passion !”