The Hermit's Hut

Soon after I moved to Ireland a read a beautiful poem written by a tenth century Irish Saint. The words of the poem have stuck with me and often ring in my ears when I see an old ruined stone cottage. I often stop and reflect and dream of what it must have looked like years ago when it was full of life, peaceful, and was beautiful...

I wanted to share with you a bit of the poem...

The Hermit's Hut ...

"I have a hut in the wood, none knows it by my Lord; an ash tree this side, a hazel on the other, a great tree on a mound encloses it.

Two heathery door-posts for support, and a lintel of honey-sickle; around its close the wood sheds its nuts upon fat swine.

The size of my hut, small yet not small, a place of familiar paths; the she-bird in its dress of blackbird colour sings a melodious strain from its gable.
...
A little hidden lowly hut, which owns the path-filled forest; will you go with me to see it?
...
a tree of apples of great bounty,..., huge; a seemly crop from small-nutted branching green hazels, in cluster like a fist.

Excellent fresh springs - a cup of water, splendid to drink- they gush forth abundantly; yet berries, bird-cherries...

Tame swine lie down around it, goats, young pigs, wild swine, tall deer, does, a badger's brood.

Peaceful, in crowds, a grave host of the countryside, an assembly at my house; foxes come to the wood before it - it is delightful..."
...
Without an hour of quarrel, without the noise of strife which disturbs you, grateful to the Prince who gives every good to my in my hut...









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