“I sat within a valley green

I sat with me my true love

My sad heart strove to choose between

The old love and the new love

The old for her, the new that made

Me think on Ireland dearly

While soft the wind blew down the glade

And shook the golden barley 

‘Twas hard the woeful words to frame

To break the ties that bound us

But harder still to bear the weight

Of foreign chains around us

And so I said, “The mountain glen

I’ll seek at morning early,

And join the brave United Men

While soft winds shake the barley.”

While sad I kissed away her tears

My fond arms ‘round her flinging

The foeman’s shot burst on our ears

From out the wildwood ringing

A bullet pierced my true love’s side

In life’s young spring so early

And on my breast in blood she died

While soft winds shook the barley

I bore her to some mountain stream

And many the summer’s blossom

I placed with branches soft and green

About her gore-stained bosom

I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse

Then rushed o’er vale and valley

My vengeance on the foe to wreak

While soft wind shook the barley

But blood for blood without remorse

I’ve taken at Oulart Hollow

And laid my true love’s clay-cold corpse

Where I full soon may follow

As ‘round her grave I wander drear

Noon, night and morning early

With breaking heart when e’er I hear

The wind that shakes the barley“

–Robert Dwyer Joyce, “The Wind That Shakes the Barley.”

This poem was written about the 1798 Irish Rebellion, a conflict opposing British rule in Ireland.

It is told from the perspective of a young Irish rebel, torn between his lover and his desire to fight for his country.Read More »