A Rebel's Recollections

by George Cary Eggleston

THE CHERRY TREE Come from your bed my drowsy gentleman! And you, fair lady, rise and braid your hair, And let the children wash, if wash they can; If not, assist you them, and make them fair As is the morning and the morning sky, And every tree and bush and bird in air. The sun climbed on the heights three hours ago, He laughed above the hills and they were glad; With bubbled pearl he made the rivers flow And laced their mists in silver, and he clad The meads in fragrant pomp of green and gold, And bade the world forget it had been sad. So lift yourself, good sir! and you, sweet dame, Unlash your evening eyes of pious grey; Call on the children by each loved name, And set them on the grass and let them play; And play with them a while, and sing with them Beneath the cherry bush a roundelay. BREAKFAST TIME

166 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2007

About the author

George Cary Eggleston was an American author and brother of fellow author Edward Eggleston (1837–1902). After the American Civil War, George Cary Eggleston published a serialized account of his time as a Confederate soldier in The Atlantic Monthly. These serialized articles were later collected and expanded upon and published under the title "A Rebel's Recollections." He also served as an editor of Hearth and Home magazine in the early 1870s.

Reviews

[Max Nemtsov · Rating 5 out of 5]

«Каменистая дорога в Дублин» — вторая часть этого поэтического сборника — шедевральный набор зарисовок Дублина, одновременно трогательных, нравоучительных и ироничных. Вообще-то эта смесь — с изрядной долей самоиронии — видимо, и есть отличительная черта Стивенза как поэта. Такую пропорцию, как у него, редко у кого найдешь.

[Dan · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a beautiful and delightful book of poetry. The first section is an odd selection of eerie verses that seem to be almost children's songs. They're certainly about childhood and feature childlike fears and fantasies, but one can't let go of the feeling that there's much more to them than that. They reverberate and cling to you after you've read them.

The second part is practically a map of Dublin, written in verse. Cold. Dispassionate. Engaging. Again eerie. Danger hangs in the air. A sense of the easter rebellion.

James Stephens was James Joyce's choice to finish Finnegan's wake, if Joyce was unable. This seems like whimsy on Joyce's part because two more dissimilar artists never existed. But it was a tip of the hat in one way: Stephens and Joyce were both true originals. Joyce was the more popular and successful but Stephens was unmistakable and undeniable, an unsung hero of literature. Read him. You'll never read anyone like him.