Two Poems by Wesli Court





“And of course on Monday we have Bloomsday, so a Joyce poem will be in order.” — Rhina Espaillat


Today the prodigal returns once more

To roam the cobbled streets of Dublin town,

Returns to raise a toast, to blow the foam

From the glass of his ancestral home,

To quaff its best and take its lifeblood down

Where it will do some good. He will ignore

The little minds, the folk who drove him out

When he was nothing more than a youngling lout,


For now he is their hero, nothing less,

And they will celebrate again this day

The fellow with a pen who, in distress,

Left Ireland to wend an exile’s way

Until he could see clear the winding track

That he might take to find the true way back.




Born June 13, 1865


The sunlight shines upon Sligo’s son this morn,

For ‘tis the birthday of the Bard of bards.

William lies sleeping in a bed of reeds

On Innisfree where the white swan preens and feeds,

Where the honeybee in the loud glade guards

The silence to be found in fern and thorn.

May he one day awaken and sing again

Of the good green land of bracken, brae and glen,


Oh may he sing once more of the lovely light

That lies upon the meads of Ireland,

May he tell us tales once more of night

Turned into clarity. Let the sun demand

The swan be as a flame of snowy white

Burning out of the sconce of sea and sand.




© 2005-2009 Per Contra: The International Journal of the Arts, Literature and Ideas

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Wesli Court

Spring 2009 Poetry