This week: Katharine Tynan Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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The End of the Day
by Katharine Tynan
The night darkens fast & the shadows darken,
Clouds & the rain gather about mine house,
Only the wood-dove moans, hearken, O hearken!
The moan of the wood-dove in the rain-wet boughs.
Loneliness & the night! The night is lonely
Star-covered the night takes to a tender breast
Wrapping them in her veil these dark hours only
The weary, the bereaved, the dispossessed.
When will it lighten? Once the night was kindly
Nor all her hours went by leaden & long.
Now in mine house the hours go groping blindly.
After the shiver of dawn, the first bird's song.
Sleep now! The night with wings of splendour swept
Hides heavy eyes from light that they may sleep
Soft & secure, under her gaze so tender
Lest they should wake to weep, should wake to weep.
On January 23, 1859, Andrew Cullen Tynan and his wife Elizabeth Reilly Tynan, welcomed daughter Katharine Tynan into their family. She was one of twelve children and grew up at Whitehall dairy farm in Dublin, Ireland. She attended the Dominican Convent of St Catherine of Siena, Drogheda until the age of fourteen. As a teen Tynan was an avid reader and loved writing poetry.
Tynan's first poem was published in Graphic in 1878. Many of her following poems were published in Irish Monthly, Hibernia and Dublin University Review. Tynan first met W.B. Yeats through the Dublin University Review and the two had a life-long friendship from that point on. It was said that Yeats proposed to her at one point, but Tynan said no. Yeats often gave her criticism of her work, and Tynan’s first book Louise de la Valliere and Other Poems, was no different, saying things such as it was ‘too full of English influence to be quite Irish’. In which Tynan turned into determination for other writings. Her second book Shamrocks had a strictly Irish subject-matter.
Tynan met and fell in love with a scholar named Henry Albert Hinkson, who she eventually married in 1893. Tynan wrote most of her work under her married name Katharine Hinkson. Tynan left Ireland shortly after getting married to live with Henry in NottingHill. The couple had three children together: Theobald Henry born in 1897, Giles Aylmer born in 1899, and Pamela Mary in 1900. Tynan’s husband Henry died suddenly in 1919.
In 1913, Tynan wrote memoirs of the literary revival, Twenty-Five Years, these appeared in Yeats letters and were printed without her permission. In 1920 Tynan finally sold the letters to Quinn. Tynan wrote until the day she died. At one point in her life she was said to be producing one novel a month. In total she wrote over 105 novels, sixteen books of poetry, twelve collections of short stories, seven books of devotion, five plays and one book about her dogs. Tynan also had many contributions to the local newspapers over the years.
Katarine Tynan-Hinkson died on April 2, 1931.
The Wind that Shakes the Barley
by Katharine Tynan
There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.
Above the uplands drenched with dew
The sky hangs soft and pearly,
An emerald world is listening to
The wind that shakes the barley.
Above the bluest mountain crest
The lark is singing rarely,
It rocks the singer into rest,
The wind that shakes the barley.
Oh, still through summers and through springs
It calls me late and early.
Come home, come home, come home, it sings,
The wind that shakes the barley.
Immortality by Katharine Tynan
So I have sunk my roots in earth
Since that my pretty boys had birth;
And fear no more the grave and gloom,
I, with the centuries to come.
As the tree blossoms so bloom I,
Flinging wild branches to the sky;
Renew each year my leafy suit,
Strike with the years a deeper root.
Shelter a thousand birds to be,
A thousand herds give praise to me;
And in my kind and grateful shade
How many a weary head be laid.
I clothe myself without a stain.
In me a child is born again,
A child that looks with innocent eyes
On a new world with glad surprise.
The old mistakes are all undone,
All the old sins are purged and gone.
Old wounds and scars have left no trace,
There are no lines in this young face.
To hear the cuckoo the first time,
And 'mid new roses in the prime
To read the poets newly. This,
Year after year, shall be my bliss.
Of me shall love be born anew;
I shall be loved and lover too;
Years after this poor body has died
Shall be the bridegroom and the bride.
Of me shall mothers spring to know
The mother's bliss, the mother's woe;
And children's children yet to be
Shall learn their prayers about my knee.
And many million lights of home
Shall light for me the time to come.
Unto me much shall be forgiven,
I that make many souls for heaven.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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Oct 4, 2023
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
I Am Me
I have the right to be who I am.
No more struggles between light and darkness.
No internal demons are lurking.
Loud expectations will not change me.
Deleting my rights won't reduce me.
Your battles are not mine.
Your fears are not mine.
Your doubts are not mine.
I am not you.
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Poetry: September 06, 2023 Issue [#12159]
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