Aug 19, 2018
Lissadell House
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Lissadell House
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A poem by Wendy Cope
Lissadell
Last year we went to Lissadell. The sun shone over Sligo Bay And life was good and all was well.
The bear, the books, the dinner bell, An air of dignified decay. Last year we went to Lissadell.
This year the owners had to sell— It calls to mind a Chekhov play. Once life was good and all was well.
The house is now an empty shell, The contents auctioned, shipped away. Last year we went to Lissadell
And found it magical. “We fell In love with it,” we sometimes say When life is good and all is well.
The light of evening. A gazelle. It seemed unchanged since Yeats’s day. Last year we went to Lissadell And life was good and all was well.
Wendy Cope
Ladies Club Visits Lissadell House
Ladies Club Visits Lissadell House
On Saturday the 4th July 2015 the Kilmovee Ladies Club set out to Lissadell, it was a fine day as we left Kilmovee Community Centre and arrived at the beautiful venue, but unfortunately the rain soon arrived, some of the ladies took shelter in a marque & sampled some of the “fairy floss” (candy floss). As the sun reappeared we enjoyed the stalls, tried samples and watched cookery demonstrations,…
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In Memory of Eva Gore-Booth and Con Markievicz The light of evening, Lissadell, Great windows open to the south, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. But a raving autumn shears Blossom from the summer's wreath; The older is condemned to death, Pardoned, drags out lonely years Conspiring among the ignorant. I know not what the younger dreams - Some vague Utopia - and she seems, When withered old and skeleton-gaunt, An image of such politics. Many a time I think to seek One or the other out and speak Of that old Georgian mansion, mix pictures of the mind, recall That table and the talk of youth, Two girls in silk kimonos, both Beautiful, one a gazelle. Dear shadows, now you know it all, All the folly of a fight With a common wrong or right. The innocent and the beautiful. Have no enemy but time; Arise and bid me strike a match And strike another till time catch; Should the conflagration climb, Run till all the sages know. We the great gazebo built, They convicted us of guilt; Bid me strike a match and blow.