Friday, December 17


Friday the Seventeenth Day in Advent
The snow has returned and the fire is lit.
But not all are so blessed.
I love the thoughts of this Irish poet.
This speaks for all who are homeless and cold at this Advent time.

An Old Woman of the Roads.

O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped-up sods upon the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall!

To have a clock with weights and chains
And pendulum swinging up and down!
A dresser filled with shining delph,
Speckled and white and blue and brown!

I could be busy all the day
Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,
And fixing on their shelf again
My white and blue and speckled store!

I could be quiet there at night
Beside the fire and by myself,
Sure of a bed, and loath to leave
The ticking clock and the shining delph!

Och I but I'm weary of mist and dark,
And roads where there's never a house or bush,
And tired I am of bog and road,
And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!

And I am praying to God on high,
And I am praying Him night and day,
For a little house--a house of my own--
Out of the wind's and the rain's way.


  1. I dream of a day when all who seek "a little house...out of the wind's and the rain's way" may find it, and food and warmth within. Thank you for sharing this, Gerry!

  2. Carolina...isn't this a grand poem? I always loved it as a child. When I was little in Belfast, the poorest women walked the roads in shawls and we called them "shawlies". In other words they were so poor that they couldn't afford coats. Times and times.


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