John Adams High School - Clipper Yearbook (Ozone Park, NY)

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f My y T u i Qmgfg, ' ik 'K ei C 1 .V . ig? O in Q . s Wll ruby M , -- X X' 'g hh' 1 wb. .iii ff - ,'L',! Inheritance X .. , , xx .txt 5- 1 Q . V- ,. 5 L 1 Q To me the hills are given S X, All jade and silver in the spring i.1:z:1l wg! The mourning wind thro' trees- X N. And birds that sing. T14 T To me the sky is given X Pierced by the swallows flight XX? Qi The fingers of the shining rain And pale moonlight. :X ' To me a stream is given Xxx ' M uiple petals covered oer Singing the secret songs 'X N ,, , U :VZ one has heard before. xxx .:, To me are given leaves that dance- The earth is my inheritance. X f A '11 7 V fi Qc , 5 - D - 1 X , , Dorff Kfzzfff. lg' -K -, -X ff FJ - -' 'L 4 -' , T13 If 0' 'W' ,IV E , V Qc' ' 23 X! 'll' 0 1 , - , - ' J Eff. X! l, 4.17 f ll r L eggfhfi ' K l -- 15-4 'XX wf 'R T-' ,f5f?V .'- ' ' ' ' x r ,-:i.'.15r W ,,, s A ir' s tx i ' I u 1 - M K X in i ' K U., -' T I - J n !11lf 'n I l

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erature does not fail to recognize their mental anguish when a lover or a husband met death for the cause of the nation's freedom. One of the most pathetic, yet beautiful stories concerning the death of a warrior who was slain at the feet of his lover, is con- tained in Francis Davis, Kallmleen ban Adair: A young Irish colleen runs through the dew-glistening grass of the early morning to the side of her lover who has been wounded in a battle with English soldiers. Behind, her native Antrim in a reeking ruin lies, Before her like a silvery path, Kell's sleeping water rises And many a pointed shrub has pierc'd Those feet so white and bare But, oh! Thy heart is deeper rent, Young Kathaleen ban Adair. During this era a sudden change in Irish literature is apparent. Coming up to the nineteenth century a division in the literature is more forcibly brought to our attention. There are two languages in use: Gaelic and English. Of the Gaelic writers of this country, Douglas Hyde, Padraic Pearse, and Canon Peter O'Leary are the most conspicuous. They adopted a style, fresh and racy, and succeeded in creating a new form of Gaelic literature. To the English writing authors, the language was new. Al- though they were bi-lingual, Gaelic was inherent with them, and it is in that tongue that they seem at their best. Consequently, some of the literature, especially the poetry, was not of equal merit with the Gaelic. However, there were a few writers in the nineteenth cen- tury whose creations rank on a high plane. They are: Thomas Davis, whose work was unsurpassed by any contemporary writer, Clarence Mangan, author of the immortal poem, A Vision of Connaught, and Sir Samuel Ferguson, a very brilliant man, whose best contribu- tion was The Burial of King Cormacf' Then, of course, no history of Irish literature would be complete without mention of the much- liked Thomas Moore. But Moore wrote voluminously and for com- mercial profit. Hence, and this may seem heretical to some, seems to lose thereby. His best pieces capture and enchant, and he truly deserves the place that he holds in the heart of the Irish-and in- deed of the world. It has often been remarked that Irish literature is genuine in the deepest sense. This I think, is because Irish writers have an inti- mate knowledge of what they write. They write of sadness, and what race has felt sadness more heavily? They tell of love and who loves more feelingly than an Irishman? Exile, war, and famine are all known to the Irish and when they write of them they do so with the finesse of touch, born of true understanding. Tzuelzty-jiffe

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l-lurk I fear the loveliness That darkness brings, I fear the night that steals On sabled Wings. I fear the crescent moon Suspended by an unseen thread, I fear the purple lilac And the hawthorne-dead. I fear the silvered pools And the gentle rains- I cannot help but fear- Wlnen loveliness so pains. Dome Kind!