Sligo Poets 1912-1923

John Arthur Hamilton

From February to May of 1912 the Sligo Times published five poems by J.A.W. Hamilton. The same newspaper had published a number of his poems in 1911. As in 1911 some of these poems bear only the poets initials while others give the writer's full name.

The poems are standard fare, formulaic reflections on love, flowers and seasons. They are disappointingly general reflections on what were the standard themes of poetry with no local or personal reference. Spring Cleaning at least has the virtue of being an attempt at humour.

John Arthur Hamilton was eighteen years old in 1912. He had been born in County Antrim. He worked in Sligo as a draper's assistant. His father, a gardener, had been born in County Antrim and was working in County Down in 1901.

His poetry makes no further appearance in the Sligo Times after May 1912. He may have found employment elsewhere, the family, Presbyterians, may have moved possibly in light of approaching Home Rule, his muse may have deserted him or indeed editor Smyllie may have tired of his verses.

Sligo Times 3 February 1912

THE POWER OF LOVE.

It is so strange; this overwhelming passion
xxxxThat mocks at reason that defies derision,
Idealizing in the blindest fashion
xxxxWhat must be common clay in other’s vision.

What is it thus dethrones our stable reason?
xxxxA curl, a smile—a tricky glance—a dimple,
A well-shaped head, a figure trim and pleasing
xxxxOr feignedly, all artless, pure and simple.

A row of faultless teeth, all flashing pearly,
xxxxTwo lips that frown or smile our peace away;
A golden head all rippling and curly,
xxxxOr laughing eyes of azure, brown or grey?

Or what it is may not be always clear,
xxxxThe man or maiden may be commonplace
You only know that person is so dear
xxxxThat love has gifted them with every grace.

You only know the sun is brightly shining
xxxxAnd all is fair around, when they are bye,
That when away from them, your heart is pining,
xxxxAnd every song is smothered in a sigh.

You only know that if you lived without them,
xxxxLife would be robbed of its most brilliant star,
You simple love them, yea, and all about them,
xxxxIs precious, though it only be a sear.

What were the world if robber of love and beauty
xxxxHow could we bear grim labour’s constant pain,
Love is the power that lightens every duty,
xxxxAnd sweetens every task of life and brain.

Sligo, 1912.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxJ.A.W.H.

Sligo Times 2 March 1912

SNOWDROPS.

Thou: sweet little snowdrop, so white and so pure
Thou! Emblem of life in winter’s dead hour
How oft have I seen thee, fragile and fair
Bloom sweetly though gardens around thee were bare!

Ah, me! And how often I’ve sighed as I thought,
And cowered o’er the lesson thy fearlessness sought,
For biting east winds and the snow all around
Ne’er kept thy fair blossoms asleep underground.

What! Shall I succumb to my weakness and pain
When thou, gentle snowdrop, the victory gain,
When deep mows of sorrow all over me lie,
Shall flickering hope in my faint bosom die?

No, I shall triumphantly rise o’er them all
Though trials like flakes in a snowstorm fall.
Rise; so that my fortitude others may cheer,
Not sink like a coward in misery and fear.

Do my duty in face of the east wind of scorn,
And rise like the snowdrop in dark, cheerless morn,
All bravely, yet humbly, all self-less and pure,
And gladden with fragrance a wintry hour.

Yes, this my desire for ever shall be,
To copy dear snowdrop, thy virtues and thee,
Live well, though no sunshine would brighten my days,
Insensible either to scorn or to praise.

J.A.W.H. Sligo

Sligo Times 2 March 1912

THE NARCISSUS.

Sweet little fragrant flower,
xxxxalike in sun or gloom,
How wonderful to me thy power
xxxxOf shedding sweet perfume.

What carest thou if oft
xxxxThou are forgotten quite,
Still thou dost bear the head aloft,
xxxxAnd blossom out of sight.

Thou wilt not bloom to gain
xxxxA single word of praise,
Not fragrance selfishly retain
xxxxFor bright and sunny days.

But upright, pure, and fair
xxxxWhile life doth hold its sway
Thou sweet’nst with they breath the air
xxxxIn dark or sunny day.

And oft thou’rt plucked and worn,
xxxxWhen ruthless hands do cast
Thy beauteous petals, shred and torn,
xxxxAside when pleasure’s past.

E’en then o’er fingers rude
xxxxThy sweetness thou dost pour,
For evil but return’st good
xxxxIn death thy fragrance more

Oh, that my life might be
xxxxLike thine, dear little flower,
Sweet, fragrant, full of purity
xxxxAnd love, in hatred’s hour.

For wounds give healing back
xxxx‘Mid slights, yield patient grace,
Give what I have if others lack
xxxxAnd smile in sorrow’s face.

Be good for love of good,
xxxxBe true, for truth’s sweet sake
Be brave in fate’s most trying mood
xxxxAnd joy for others make.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx J. A. W. Hamilton.

Sligo Times 27 April 1912

SPRING CLEANING

Nae wonder I look glum,
xxxxNae wonder I look blue,
for glorious spring has come—
xxxxThe cleaning demon too.

Upstairs and down each airth,
xxxxPaint-brushes, brooms and pails,
while giving them wide berth
xxxxThe wife at me—and rails.

“Here, watch yer feet, my man!
xxxxThat bit o’er there is clean.
‘Ye want a chair’—so, can
xxxxYe try and gi’e me yin.

Oh! watch yer head—look out—
xxxxThat paint o’er there is wet.
Ye’ve ta’en it off, nae doot,
xxxxIt’s on yer sleeve, I’ll bet.

Here, jist sit there the noo,
xxxxSome tea will dae ye fine,
Ye canna bake and stew,
xxxxand roast at cleaning time”

Oh my, ma back’s that sair,
xxxxI wish I wis a man,
They dinna wark nae mair
xxxxNor langer than they can.

Bit here since brak’ o’ day
xxxxI’m working like a slave,
Till a’ the neighbours say,
xxxxI’ll sin be in ma grave.

Ye needna look so soor,
xxxxO’ trouble, you ha’e nane.
Bit men were always door,
xxxxIt’s me that should complain!”

I mumbled something low
xxxxAnd munched ma bred and chees,
And wondered whar I’d go
xxxxTae keep fra scenes like these.

Ma wife, I love gal weel,
xxxxAnd she’s aye nearly sweet.
Guess then hoo bad I feel
xxxxAt changes sae complete.

Sae when I did escape
xxxxAnd dodged the painter’s brush,
Queer thoughts o’ dootful shape
xxxxAnd words I had tae crush.

Bit, ‘gin I had yin seight
xxxxO’ yon imp o’ the spring,
I’d choke him wi’ deleight
xxxxAnd dance the ‘Heelan Fling.’


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx J. A. W. Hamilton.

Sligo Times 11 May 1912

LILY OF THE VALLEY

Sweet and fragrant, chastely fair,
xxxxModesty and grace combined.
How I love thy blossoms rare,
xxxxSweeter it were hard to find.

Sweet each small inverted cup
xxxxDrooping on the tender stem.
Well might fairies drink and sup
xxxxFrom such waxen little gem.

Where the “magic ring” is found,
xxxxWhere the “little people” dance.
Growing in the mossy ground
xxxxThere thy blossoms gleam and glance.

There thy green leaves shelter make
xxxxFor those gauze winged creatures bright,
When the tiny partners take
xxxxRefuge from the moon’s clear light.

Is there any wonder then
xxxxThat I love thee, floweret fair,
When the fairies of the glen
xxxxMy devotion fully share.

Sligo xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx J.A.W. Hamilton