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Updated: June 14, 2025
I liked to wait until the last ripple had lapped against the sand beneath, and then slip quietly in from the margin of the jungle and perch like a great tree-frog on some convenient shelf. Seumas and Brigid would have enjoyed it, in spite of the fact that the Leprechauns seemed to have just gone.
Lennox Robinson's plays are harsh in tone, but dramatically effective, and T.C. Murray's Birthright and Maurice Harte are fine dramas, well constructed and full of true knowledge of the people he writes about. Seumas O'Kelly has written two strong dramas in The Shuiler's Child and The Bribe, and Seumas O'Brien one of the funniest Irish farces ever staged in Duty.
One of the Leprecauns, who had a grey, puckered face and a thin fringe of grey whisker very far under his chin, then spoke. "Come over here, Seumas Beg," said he, "and I'll measure you for a pair of shoes. Put your foot up on that root." The boy did so, and the Leprecaun took the measure of his foot with a wooden rule. "Now, Brigid Beg, show me your foot," and he measured her also.
The youngsters continually deserted their meal in order to put their arms about the cow's neck to thank and praise her for her goodness, and to draw each other's attention to various excellences in its appearance. "Cow," said Brigid Beg in an ecstasy, "I love you." "So do I," said Seumas. "Do you notice the kind of eyes it has?" "Why does a cow have horns?" said Brigid.
He gave the needles and wool to Brigid Beg. "Do you know how to turn the heel, Brigid Beg?" said he. "No, sir," said Brigid. "Well, I'll show you how when you come to it." The other six Leprecauns had ceased work and were looking at the children. Seumas turned to them. "God bless the work," said he politely.
From this congestion of thought there arose the first deep rumblings, precursors of uproar, and another moment would have heard the thunder of her varied malediction, but that Brigid Beg began to cry: for, indeed, the poor child was both tired and parched to distraction, and Seumas had no barrier against a similar surrender, but two minutes' worth of boyish pride.
Irish poetry a part of English Literature common-sense the basis of romanticism misapprehension of the poetic temperament William Butler Yeats his education his devotion to art his theories his love poetry resemblance to Maeterlinck the lyrical element paramount the psaltery pure rather than applied poetry John M. Synge his mentality his versatility a terrible personality his capacity for hatred his subjectivity his interesting Preface brooding on death A. E. The Master of the island his sincerity and influence disembodied spirits his mysticism homesickness true optimism James Stephens poet and novelist realism and fantasy Padraic Colum Francis Ledwidge Susan Mitchell Thomas MacDonagh Joseph Campbell Seumas O'Sullivan Herbert Trench Maurice Francis Egan Norreys Jephson O'Conor F. Carlin The advance in Ireland.
WHEN the Leprecaun came through the pine wood on the following day he met two children at a little distance from the house. Sitting down before the two children he stared at them for a long time, and they stared back at him. At last he said to the boy: "What is your name, a vic vig O?" "Seumas Beg, sir," the boy replied. "It's a little name," said the Leprecaun.
"They'll be ready for you in the morning." "Do you never do anything else but make shoes, sir?" said Seumas. "We do not," replied the Leprecaun, "except when we want new clothes, and then we have to make them, but we grudge every minute spent making anything else except shoes, because that is the proper work for a Leprecaun.
I have not said half what I want to say about Seumas O'Sullivan's verses, but I know the world will not listen long to the musings of one verse-writer on another. I only hope this note may send some readers to their bookseller for Seumas O'Sullivan's poems, and that it may help them to study with more understanding a mind that I love.
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