"Edward Durand comes from a lineage of authors who write on subject matters concerning the historical, mythological and mystical, dating back to the 1800s" (Anara Ashwood, from the biographical passage written for his first poetry book). His mother (https://revdstelladurand.wixsite.com/home) and various ancestors have had books published. He also compiled a book of the poetry of his family and ancestors, extracts of which are reproduced here.
A Deep Stream
7 Generations of My Family’s Poetry Featuring selected works of Eva Gore-Booth, Reginald Heber, Marion Campbell and various Durands Compiled by Edward Durand Introduction Reginald Heber (1783 – 1826) 7 from Palestine 14 The Passage of the Red Sea 18 Holy, Holy, Holy 18 The World Before The Flood 26 from Morte D’Arthur 36 from The Masque of Gwendolen 44 Fragment on Alchemy 44 Epiphany Sarah Wynne (18??-1903) The Tree “Ill habits gather” “Each one by thy example draw” Disappointment The Modern Bayard “As late one back its foamy track” Edward (Law) Durand (1845–1920) 46 from Cyrus the Great King 56 from Lucilla Eva Gore-Booth (1870-1926) 66 Salvator Mundi 66 Radium 67 Leonardo Da Vinci 68 The Hidden Purpose 68 “I” 69 The Artist in War Time 70 The World is Round 71 The Well Where The World Ends 71 The Living And The Dead 72 A Round Pebble From The Brook 73 That They May Be One 73 The Divine Listener 74 Sabbath 74 Opposites Mortimer Durand (1898-1969) 76 Three Fragments Gypsy Thoughts Song Life’s Minstrelsy A Dedication To a Flower Silent, Remote…. We are as Trees I would have Builded…. Steadfast Mountains Poems at Parting Dawn in the Bermudas My Wedding Sonnet Tom Durand (1900-1961) 89 “So through the driving clouds the sun again” “Put you off the sloth of waiting” “The sunset’s glow behind us; in the trees” “Sing on, O south west wind” “When last I saw these hills the breath of spring” “Have you a song for men” Kentish Morning “There’s all the world to sing” From In Memoriam R.H.H.S. “Not with the gale, O God” The Road “Once would come to me by night” Sanctuary Nocturne Marion Campbell (1919-2000) 100 The Archaic Smile Levavi Oculos Erik of Greengarth’s Song Envoi: ‘Island Years’ From The Dark Twin ‘Oh, I am the Clever Miss Somebody’ Dickon Durand (1934-1992) 109 The Lord of Life Stranger in a Southland Apocalypse Stella Durand (1942-) 111 It is in me Burning Bush Raindrops At Dawn a Holy Silence Prayer of Silence God's Ears Smile Dreams Womb of Silence Healing Sounds Enlarge The Place Of Your Tent The Sea-Green Girl Behold My Glory The Three Magi Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand (1974-) 121 Woven Prophecies Child of the Wild The Wouldland The Palaces Of Nature The Symphony Of Nature Whispering Willow of Wonder Solar Gold Trancemutation The West Wind A Fountain Of Blessings Radiant Dawn The Voice of the Silence Hazel Cosmic Fire Mary Durand (2005-) When The Wind Blows The Flowers Dance Too Nature Is The Time The Song Is Too Beautiful The Imaginist Creator’s Big Tiger-Lily The Greatest Tiger-Lily The Days of the Bees and Fairies “The World is Great” The Light Introduction The journey of discovering the poetry of my family has been a great blessing. To read the poems of eleven poets in my family and find such beautiful, profound inspiration has been a wondrous journey through the poetic expression of two centuries of my family. I found a wealth of expressions of the mysteries of existence, the beauty of nature and the immanent presence of the divine. Seven generations of my ancestors contain some wonderful poets, including the Irish mystic Eva Gore-Booth, the writer of many hymns Reginald Heber, the Scottish writer Marion Campbell and several Durands, including my parents, my daughter and myself. This is not a vanity project of publishing my family’s poetry because they’re my family, but I have found a lot of quality poetry as a hidden inheritance that is deserving of a wider readership. So it is up to me to see that others have the opportunity to share in the experience of such wonderful poetry. A common thread that runs through these poems is a love for the Divine. Expressed through recognition of the presence of God in nature and the mystical experience. This thread, or stream, seems also to run through the family, with many bishops, priests and mystics, some among the poets here. There is also in many of these poems a deeper way of seeing the world, whether philosophical, psychological or mystical. Many of them have a touch of the esoteric, supernatural or mythic. The secrets of the universe and the wisdom of the ages are sometimes expressed in poetry, which better enables us to see it with all of our being. Like the different mode of understanding brought about by Zen koans or the parables of Jesus, mystical poetry enables us to see not only with the logical side of the brain, but with the whole mind, heart, body, spirit and soul. Where form and substance together produce an effect on the reader that transcends mundane perception and they are transported to the world of the poem. Most of these poems have been published before but are out of print. This collection keeps alive those poems that deserve to be heard and shows that the current generations still carry that poetic expression, nectar of the muses of poetry and wisdom. From the historical verses of Reginald Heber and Edward (Law) Durand to the mystical poetry of Eva Gore-Booth and the current generations of Durands, many of them use language that seems to bring the mind deeper. Much of this poetry can bring the consciousness to where we see the world through profounder eyes, with an awe and reverence for the eternal mystery present in the moment, showing the sentience of nature and seeing through the depths of the heart. Each poet is introduced with a brief biography. They each have their style, and give a window onto their time. It is a history lesson to see writing from different ages and though they are all related, they span a few different countries: Ireland, England and Scotland being represented in their nationalities and places like Palestine and Persia in the subjects. Reginald Heber and Edward (Law) Durand, the earliest two poets of the collection, have magnificent epic poems, of which I could only include fragments because of space restrictions. Hence the verses don’t always follow each other logically as a story would. They paint a picture on the inner tapestry of the mind and the heart, a picture of a thousand words. It is extremely rare for anyone to have seven generations of their family’s poetry, and I feel blessed not only that I have these poems, but that there is such a wealth of good poetry in the family. It is a treasure trove of wonders: mystical gems, beautiful descriptions of nature and well-written nuggets of wisdom. Legendary heroes such as King Arthur and Cyrus the Great are glorified by these bards, and spiritual creatures like fairies, devas and angels recur throughout the poems. This weaves an inner landscape of fairy tales and mystery, the ‘hero with a thousand faces’ (in the words of Joseph Campbell) is the reader as well as the character. These poets have poured forth nectar from their souls, which can inspire the hardest of hearts. They wove a creative expression of the timeless mysteries, seen with the eyes of the heart. They describe a mystical union between the self and the divine where there is no separation. As you read through the poems the style becomes less classical and simpler over time, but becomes even more infused with the spirit of mystical union with the divine. I hope you get as much enjoyment out of these poems as I do. Reginald Heber (1783 –1826) was the Church of England Bishop of Calcutta, he was educated at Oxford University. Reginald is best known for the hymn ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’. He went around India consecrating Churches and setting up schools. He died after plunging into a swimming pool to cool off after giving an impassioned speech against the inequality of the caste system. Although known for his hymns, he had a collection of poems published entitled ‘The Poetical Works of Reginald Heber’ (Philadelphia: E.H. Butler, 1870), from which a Latin poem called Carmen Seculare and an English poem called Palestine won prizes. He was a Doctor of Divinity and Lord Bishop of Calcutta, later of all India and Australia. Rev. M.A. De Wolfe Howe said of him in his introduction to his poetry book “There is no name in the annals of the present century, which awakens so universal and grateful an interest in the religious world, as that of Reginald Heber”. The poem Palestine was written before the creation of the modern state of Israel, so it refers to the Holy Land, what we know as both Palestine and Israel (though the distinction is unclear as Israel swallows up more and more of Palestine). The language of this epic poem is archaic but understandable, for example ‘Salem’ refers to Jerusalem. His play in verse ‘The Masque of Gwendolen’ is based on Chaucer’s ‘Wife of Bath’s Tale’ but with the characters of Titania and her fairies and Merlin and Gawain, a new spin on an old plot twist. Arthurian legends are further developed in his epic poem ‘Morte D’Arthur’. Reginald’s poems fall into the Romantic literary period, which is echoed in atypical ways by these poems, such as the love of God. I couldn’t include his love poems because of space restrictions, he has much more important works such as his epic poems. According to The Classical Encyclopaedia Reginald Heber was “a pious man of profound learning, literary taste and great practical energy”. Fifty-seven of his hymns appeared in ‘Hymns Written and Adapted to the Weekly Church Service of the Year’ (London: J. Murray, 1827). Reginald is the great grandfather of Mortimer Durand, the great, great grandfather of Dickon Durand and Marion Campbell and the grandfather-in-law of Edward (Law) Durand. I performed his epic poem ‘Morte d’Arthur’ in its entirety in Glastonbury Abbey where the grave of King Arthur lies. Reginald Heber (1783 – 1826) 7 From Palestine 14 The Passage of the Red Sea 18 Holy, Holy, Holy 18 The World Before The Flood 26 From Morte D’Arthur 36 From The Masque of Gwendolen 44 Fragment on Alchemy 44 Epiphany from Palestine Reft of thy sons, amid thy foes forlorn, Mourn, widowed Queen, forgotten Sion, mourn! Is this thy place, sad city, this thy throne, Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone? While suns unblest their angry lustre fling. And way-worn pilgrims seek the scanty spring? -- Where now thy pomp, which kings with envy viewed? Where now thy might, which all those kings subdued? No martial myriads muster in thy gate; No suppliant nations in thy Temple wait; No prophet bards, thy glittering courts among, Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song: But lawless Force, and meagre Want are there, And the quick-darting eye of restless Fear, While cold Oblivion, 'mid thy ruins laid, Folds his dank wing beneath the ivy shade. Ye guardian saints! ye warrior sons of Heaven, To whose high care Judaea's state was given! O wont of old your nightly watch to keep, A host of gods, on Sion's towery steep! If e'er your secret footsteps linger still By Siloa's fount, or Tabor's echoing hill; If e'er your song on Salem's glories dwell. And mourn the captive land you loved so well; (For oft, 'tis said, in Kedron's palmy vale Mysterious harpings swell the midnight gale, And, blest as balmy dews that Hermon cheer. Melt in soft cadence on the pilgrim's ear); Forgive, blest spirits, if a theme so high Mock the weak notes of mortal minstrelsy! Yet, might your aid this anxious breast inspire With one faint spark of Milton's seraph fire, Then should ray Muse ascend with bolder flight, And wave her eagle-plumes exulting in the light. …. So when, deep sinking in the rosy main, The western Sun forsakes the Syrian plain, His watery rays refracted lustre shed, And pour their latest light on Cannel's head. …. Revere the sacred smile of infancy. Such now the clans, whose fiery coursers feed Where waves on Kishon's bank the whispering reed; And theirs the soil, where, curling to the skies. Smokes on Samaria's mount her scanty sacrifice; While Israel's sons, by scorpion curses driven, Outcasts of earth, and reprobate of heaven, Through the wide world in friendless exile stray, Remorse and shame sole comrades of their way, With dumb despair their country's wrongs behold, And, dead to glory, only burn for gold. O Thou, their Guide, their Father, and their Lord, Loved for Thy mercies, for Thy power adored! If at Thy Name the waves forgot their force. And refluent Jordan sought his trembling source; If at Thy Name like sheep the mountains fled. And haughty Sirion bowed his marble head; -- To Israel's woes a pitying ear incline, And raise from earth Thy long-neglected vine! Her rifled fruits behold the heathen bear, And wild-wood boars her mangled clusters tear. Was it for this she stretched her peopled reign From far Euphrates to the western main? For this, o'er many a hill her boughs she threw, And her wide arms like goodly cedars grew? For this, proud Edom slept beneath her shade, And o'er the Arabian deep her branches played? O, feeble boast of transitory power! Vain, fruitless trust of Judah's happier hour! Not such their hope, when through the parted main The cloudy wonder led the warrior train: Not such their hope, when through the fields of night The torch of heaven diffused its friendly light: Not, when fierce conquest urged the onward war, And hurled stem Canaan from his iron car: Nor, when five monarchs led to Gibeon's fight, In rude array, the harnessed Amorite: Yes -- in that hour, by mortal accents stayed, The lingering Sun his fiery wheels delayed; The Moon, obedient, trembled at the sound, Curbed her pale car, and checked her mazy round! Let Sinai tell -- for she beheld his might. And God's own darkness veiled her mystic height: (He, cherub-borne, upon the whirlwind rode. And the red mountain like a furnace glowed): Let Sinai tell -- but who shall dare recite His praise, his power, eternal, infinite? -- Awe-struck I cease; nor bid ray strains aspire. Or serve his altar with unhallowed fire. Such were the cares that watched o'er Israel's fate. And such the glories of their infant state. -- Triumphant race! and did your power decay? Failed the bright promise of your early day? No; -- by that sword, which, red with heathen gore, A giant spoil, the stripling champion bore; By him, the chief to farthest India known, The mighty master of the ivory throne; In Heaven's own strength, high towering o'er her foes, Victorious Salem's lion banner rose: Before her footstool prostrate nations lay, And vassal tyrants crouched beneath her sway. -- And he, the kingly sage, whose restless mind Through nature's mazes wandered unconfined; Who every bird, and beast, and insect knew, And spake of every plant that quaffs the dew; To him were known -- so Hagar's offspring tell -- The powerful sigil and the starry spell. The midnight call, hell's shadowy legions dread, And sounds that burst the slumbers of the dead. Hence all his might; for who could these oppose? And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Balbec rose. Yet e'en the works of toiling Genii fall. And vain was Estakhar's enchanted wall. In frantic converse with the mournful wind, There oft the houseless Santon rests reclined; Strange shapes he views, and drinks with wondering ears The voices of the dead, and songs of other years. Such, the faint echo of departed praise, Still sound Arabia's legendary lays; And thus their fabling bards delight to tell How lovely were thy tents, O Israel! …. Then towered the palace, then in awful state The Temple reared its everlasting gate. No workman steel, no ponderous axes rung; Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung. Majestic silence! -- then the harp awoke, The cymbal clanged, the deep-voiced trumpet spoke; And Salem spread her suppliant arms abroad, Viewed the descending flame, and blessed the present God. Nor shrunk she then, when, raging deep and loud, Beat o'er her soul the billows of the proud. E'en they who, dragged to Shinar's fiery sand, Tilled with reluctant strength the stranger's land; Who sadly told the slow-revolving years, And steeped the captive's bitter bread with tears; -- Yet oft their hearts with kindling hopes would burn, Their destined triumphs, and their glad return, And their sad lyres, which, silent and unstrung. In mournful ranks on Babel's willows hung, Would oft awake to chant their future fame. And from the skies their lingering Saviour claim. His promised aid could every fear controul; This nerved the warrior's arm, this steeled the martyr's soul! Nor vain their hope: -- Bright beaming through the sky, ~ Burst in full blaze the Day-spring from on high; Earth's utmost isles exulted at the sight. And crowding nations drank the orient light. Lo, star-led chiefs Assyrian odours bring, And bending Magi seek their infant King! Marked ye, where, hovering o'er his radiant head, The dove's white wings celestial glory shed? Daughter of Sion! virgin queen! rejoice! Clap the glad hand, and lift the exulting voice! He comes, -- but not in regal splendour drest. The haughty diadem, the Tyrian vest; Not armed in flame, all-glorious from afar. Of hosts the chieftain, and the lord of war: Messiah comes! -- let furious discord cease; Be peace on earth before the Prince of Peace! Disease and anguish feel his blest controul, And howling fiends release the tortured soul; The beams of gladness hell's dark caves illume. And Mercy broods above the distant gloom. …. 'Twas his to bend beneath the sacred gloom. And wear with many a kiss Messiah's tomb: While forms celestial filled his tranced eye. The day-light dreams of pensive piety, O'er his still breast a tearful fervour stole, And softer sorrows charmed the mourner's soul. …. Far other they who reared yon pompous shrine. And bade the rock with Parian marble shine. Then hallowed Peace renewed her wealthy reign. Then altars smoked, and Sion smiled again. There sculptured gold and costly gems were seen, And all the bounties of the British queen; There barbarous kings their sandaled nations led, And steel-clad champions bowed the crested head. …. From the moist regions of the western star The wandering hermit waked the storm of war. Their limbs all iron, and their souls all flame, A countless host, the red-cross warriors came: E'en hoary priests the sacred combat wage, And clothe in steel the palsied arm of age; While beardless youths and tender maids assume …. At Albion's call your crested pride resume. And burst the marble slumbers of the tomb! Your sons behold, in arm, in heart the same, Still press the footsteps of parental fame. To Salem still their generous aid supply, And pluck the palm of Syrian chivalry! When he, from towery Malta's yielding isle. And the green waters of reluctant Nile, The apostate chief, -- from Misraim's subject shore To Acre's walls his trophied banners bore; …. Yes, Salem, thou shalt rise: thy Father's aid Shall heal the wound his chastening hand has made; Shall judge the proud oppressor's ruthless sway, And burst his brazen bonds, and cast his cords away. Then on your tops shall deathless verdure spring, Break forth, ye mountains, and ye valleys, sing! No more your thirsty rocks shall frown forlorn. The unbeliever's jest, the heathen's scorn; The sultry sands shall tenfold harvests yield, And a new Eden deck the thorny field. E'en now, perchance, wide-waving o'er the land, That mighty Angel lifts his golden wand, Courts the bright vision of descending power. Tells every gate, and measures every tower; And chides the tardy seals that yet detain Thy Lion, Judah, from his destined reign. And who is He? the vast, the awful form. Girt with the whirlwind, sandaled with the storm? A western cloud around his limbs is spread, His crown a rainbow, and a sun his head. To highest heaven he lifts his kingly hand. And treads at once the ocean and the land; And, hark! his voice amid the thunder's roar, His dreadful voice, that time shall be no more! Lo! cherub hands the golden courts prepare, Lo! thrones arise, and every saint is there ; Earth's utmost bounds confess their awful sway, The mountains worship, and the isles obey; Nor sun nor moon they need, -- nor day, nor night; -- God is their temple, and the Lamb their light: And shall not Israel's sons exulting come. Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home? On David's throne shall David's offspring reign, And the dry bones be warm with life again. Hark! white-robed crowds their deep hosannas raise, And the hoarse flood repeats the sound of praise; Ten thousand harps attune the mystic song. Ten thousand thousand saints the strain prolong; -- " Worthy the Lamb! omnipotent to save, " Who died, who lives, triumphant o'er the grave!" Sarah Wynne (-1903) was the daughter of John Arthur Wynne of Hazelwood House and his wife Lady Anne Wynne. Sarah was a keen painter, having done many beautiful watercolours of Italy and other places. She never married, but moved to Edinburgh where she passed on due to pneumonia in 1903. Sarah and her sister Grace (who also wrote poetry) decorated a ward in the county infirmary in memory of their father. Her obituary in the Sligo Independent said she was well-loved by all classes, and very charitable. Sarah is a great grandmother of Stella Durand, a great, great grandmother of Edward Durand and a great, great, great grandmother of Mary Durand. Sarah Wynne (-1903) The Tree “Ill habits gather” “Each one by thy example draw” Disappointment The Modern Bayard “As late one back its foamy track” Disappointment All round the rolling world both night and day A ceaseless rain ascends to those who pray “Thy will be done on earth as now in heaven, Unto our souls a perfect choice be given”. All round the rolling world both night and day A ceaseless answer comes to those who pray By shattered hopes, crossed paths and fruitless pains Thy heavenly master thine allegiance trains. Guessing some portion of his great design Thou seekst to forward it by ways of thine He who the whole world disposes as is met Sees a necessity for thy defeat. Yet to the Faithful there is no such thing As disappointment. Failures only bring A glut pang, as peacefully they say His purpose stands though mine has passed away. All is fulfilling, all is working still To teach thee flexibility of will To great achievements let thy wishes soar Yet meek submission pleases Christ still more. When love's long discipline is overpast Thy will too shall be done with His, at last When all is perfected and thou dost stand Robed, Crowned and Glorified at God's right hand With heart at rest and life love-filled And your spirit still and free You can cross the brink of the newborn year Accepting without a shadow of fear The future awaiting thee. Edward (Law) Durand (1845–1920) was a writer, artist, statesman, soldier, spy and baronet. He was the son of Henry Marion Durand, the Lieutenant Governor of British India. Edward was also known for the Afghanistan accord. He was the official British Resident of Nepal (what they have when they don’t have an Ambassador or Consulate), as well as living in India, England and America. Edward travelled through Persia and elsewhere in the Middle East and Asia. Both he and his brother Henry Mortimer Durand were known as Persian scholars, his brother also being known for the Durand cup and the border the ‘Durand line’ that Edward worked with his brother on. Edward discovered an ancient stone with Sumerian markings, it now lies in the museum in , it is known as the Durand stone. Edward wrote several books including Ranch in Happy Valley and Ponies’ Progress (which taught people how to train ponies without a whip). I include verses from his Lucilla, a drama in verse (though not rhyming verse like Cyrus the Great King). I also include verses from Cyrus the Great King (London: Appleton, 1906), which is a play in verse about Cyrus, also known as Koorosh'e, Koresh and Kai Khusro. Cyrus was a King of Persia (Iran) who conquered the entire Middle East, freeing slaves, making the first declaration of human rights and quenching the enemies of God, according to his friend the Prophet Daniel. The book runs to some 9,000 lines, four-fifths of which is written in heroic couplets. Occasionally the poet breaks out into another rhyming form. The book is dedicated to Edward’s wife, Maud Ellen Heber-Percy, who was the granddaughter of Reginald Heber. Edward is the father of Mortimer Durand, the uncle of Tom Durand, the grandfather of both Marion Campbell and Dickon Durand and the great grandfather of the other Edward Durand in this collection, myself, who was named after this enigmatic ancestor. Edward (Law) Durand (1845–1920) 46 From Cyrus the Great King 56 From Lucilla From Cyrus the Great King Dramatis Personae Cyrus: The Great, Emperor of Persia, also known as Koorosh'e, Koresh and Kai Khusro. Daniel: The Prophet. Shirin: A Hebrew Princess of the house of Jehoiachim, she is also called Nahid and Venus. Wife of Cyrus. Croesus: King of Lydia (Greek) until his defeat by Cyrus. Spirit: An angel who comes to assist the passing of Cyrus from this world. How dust, enchanted, once again should stir, Quicken dead hearts that share his sepulchre, When in the days to come his opening eyes Survey the world, once more a battle-prize. "For he shall wake, renew the lost renown Of Persia's past, and raise her splendorous crown; And there he sleeps."- He pointed to the hill Which rose above.- "That cavern guards him still. There with his warriors 'neath the eternal snow Takes his long rest the conqueror Kai Khusro."... I looked! against high heaven a fastness rude Upreared her pinnacle,- sheer, pathless, nude; A portal grey disclosed the rugged face Sun-swathed, abandoned to the wind's embrace; Heaven-stayed, -for sentinel, -or sunlit cloud? Or guardian flame embodied, might-endowed? Surely! through faltering lids mine eyes could see The Immortal form, the blade that beckoned me! The whilst my hunter's voice, low-pitched, intense, Persuaded sleep, His whisper woke my sense, Till, subtly passing, by his armoured side My spirit stood, where life and death divide. He took my hand,-"See, for thy sake is riven The seal of sight, unclasped the scroll of heaven; Where on earth's path, imprinted, wondrous, glows, Mirrored in light the world revolving throws, A picture-miracle on veils of space,- The immortal records of thy mortal race! Here be the treasure-house where God-kept lie The sacred archives of the days gone by." Spreading his pinions o'er the abyss sublime We hung, swept upward, in the stream of time; Till touched my eyes, my ears, the Seraph's hand,- "Be open - Hearken - See - and understand!" (Daniel) Here, the Shekinah, the Glory, the Light of the Presence, Lies on the mountain, the cavern, a cradle of kings, Whose radiance around us outpours of its Infinite Essence A sanction to thee in the sound of the Seraphim's wings. Bow down, for I bless and anoint thee with oil of the chalice! Be the salvation of God as a shield to thy head! Strong be the heart in thy breast as a brazen portalice, Mighty thine arm as the stroke of a shaft that is sped! Swift as a leopard's thy feet, and thy voice as a thunder, Thy rush as the lightning, thine onset the flash of a sword! Behold! I have given thee a world, thou shalt rend it asunder; I have holden thy hand, I have called thee the Lash of the Lord Rise up from thine eyrie, Mine Eagle; I give thee the earth-right I have screamed to the eastward - thy pinion shall answer in joy Anointed and blessed of the Lord, to establish thy birth-right, Rise up in My might, who accord thee the strength to destroy. Eva Gore-Booth (1870–1926) was an Irish poet and dramatist, and a committed suffragist and social activist. She was born at Lissadell House, County Sligo, the younger sister of Constance Gore-Booth, later known as Countess Markiewicz (the first female member of parliament and government minister after helping to free Ireland from British rule). Eva's poetry was highly praised by her friend W.B. Yeats, who wrote a poem about the two sisters. Though sensitive, ethereal and profound, she was a dedicated reformer as well as a pure visionary and mystic. Eva’s partner was a woman named Esther Roper, also a committed feminist. Eva was the editor of 'Women's Labour News'. Both her and her sister were involved in ensuring the right to vote and own land for Irish women. Eva believed in the unity of all things, the unifying force being Love. Her sister Constance said of her "She has left a spiritual inheritance of love and peace to those who can understand, that can never die.... Her human presence was so beautiful and wonderful, but with her the spirit dominated every bit of her and her body was just the human instrument it shone through." Eva’s poems are inspired by mystical traditions and her own mystical experiences. She would sometimes ride her horse all morning, and on her return not know where she had been, she was so caught up in the internal world. Eva sought the hidden beauty in all things and communed with nature in a profound way. The writer Evelyn Underhill said of her "Through this profound sympathy with nature, this deep love for all created loveliness, she obtained a rich variety of significant and concrete symbols; genuine poetic material, loved and chosen for its own sake, by means of which her mystical vision could be given artistic form." The Poems of Eva Gore-Booth were published by Longmans, Green and Co. of London in 1929. Besides her poetry, other outstanding books of hers include 'The World's Pilgrim' and 'The Psychological and Poetic Approach to the Study of Christ in the Fourth Gospel'. The writer George Russell (A.E.) said of her "I feel you belong to the spiritual clan of new Irish people...(who) know that Tir na n'Og (the land of eternal youth in Celtic mythology) is no dream and that inwardly we are inhabitants of it and breathe a common air." Eva is the first cousin twice removed of Stella Durand, the first cousin three times removed of Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand and a cousin of Sarah Wynne. Eva Gore-Booth (1870-1926) 66 Salvator Mundi 66 Radium 67 Leonardo Da Vinci 68 The Hidden Purpose 68 “I” 69 The Artist in War Time 70 The World is Round 71 The Well Where The World Ends 71 The Living And The Dead 72 A Round Pebble From The Brook 73 That They May Be One 73 The Divine Listener 74 Sabbath 74 Opposites Salvator Mundi I gave up all things, and behold all things came and begged to be mine, Mine is the life of the rainbow, the river, the corn, and the vine I shine from stars, I flow in streams, I rise up from the earth in trees My vision, enthroned beyond all dreams, shines over a thousand seas My writing glitters in cloud and shower, the blue skies are my scroll My face is mirrored in every flower, my mind in every man's soul My Spirit is that thin golden air, still brightness, or wandering wind Love that flows o'er the wild seas in prayer, or life that enfolds the mind. It shelters the lonely dreams of men, and holds up the skylark's wing For deep in my boundless heart is the heart of every living thing I give my Dream to the outcast, the slave, or the king on his throne I give my soul to the beggar, I go forth from myself alone. The sun and the moon and the stars I give, and I grudge to none I give the whole Glory of God to every man under the sun; For through my soul there flows the Love that has built up the earth and sky, And set in the heart of dust and stone a glory that cannot die, And made a road for the tides beneath, and the wonderful moon above, And the wind-driven hearts of foolish men, in the calm Heart of Love. Sunlight and starlight are my dreams, and the twilight deep and still, For I have given my will to God, and mine is God's dear will. Mine is the Dream and the Splendour, the broken parts and the whole For I have given my love to God, and my soul is Love's wild soul Mortimer Durand (1898-1969) was a Journalist, Writer, Sailor and Poet. He served in both world wars (he was a Commander in the Royal Navy), between the wars he was a Fleet Street Journalist. He was the seventh child of Edward (Law) Durand. He was educated at Osborne, Dartmouth and Cambridge. As a journalist he covered the Italian / Abyssinian War, after which he wrote the book ‘Crazy Campaign’ about it. He had a novel and a book of poems published as well, and wrote several unpublished musicals for children, which he was unwilling to have published as the publishers were unwilling to include his illustrations. Mortimer was a son of Edward (Law) Durand, the father of Dickon Durand, the father-in-law of Stella Durand, a cousin of Tom Durand, an uncle of Marion Campbell and a grandfather of Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand. These verses were originally published in his poetry book ‘Linked Fantasies’ (Westminster: The Merton Press). Mortimer Durand (1898-1969) 76 Three Fragments Gypsy Thoughts Song Life’s Minstrelsy A Dedication To a Flower Silent, Remote…. We are as Trees I would have Builded…. Steadfast Mountains Poems at Parting Dawn in the Bermudas My Wedding Sonnet I Would have Builded I would have builded palaces of thought With slender pillars rising purple-veined In misty colonnades that, weightless, feigned Flight with the gentlest zephyr. I had wrought Slim, silver spires to mingle with the light Woven by moon and star-beams through the night, And golden dusted minarets had caught The first, flame-coloured, level shafts of dawn And scattered them like spray. Anon a faun With love and wonder in his eyes had sought A white-limbed Naiad by the lucent streams Flowing from misty springheads of my dreams And with reed music all her love besought; Or through the noontide striven to evoke A slant-eyed Dryad from a dreaming oak. From fancy’s wild, bright garden had I brought Armfuls of blossoms, fresh and strange and sweet, And in the dawn-light cast them at your feet. With god-like courage I had set at nought The guardian sun, riven his dawn-gold bars-- The skies profaned-- And robbed high heaven of her fading stars: The little meteors I would have taught To fawn about your feet, your path make bright; Stars had I hung to throw their silver light Low in my blue-domed palaces of thought: Had the great light not waned. Tom Durand (1900-1961) was baptised Algernon Thomas Marion Durand, but because his father was also Algernon Durand he was usually known by his middle name as Tom. Tom Durand was born on 6 January 1900. He was the son of Algernon George Arnold Durand and Elizabeth Marjorie Bruce. He married Margery Underwood, daughter of J.S. Underwood, on 10 March 1939. He died on 23 July 1961 at age 61, without any children. Tom is buried at Fairmile, Oxford. His poems were unpublished but they show a talent for poetic description. Thomas was educated at Eton College, England. He graduated from Magdalen College, Oxford University with a Bachelor of Arts degree. He fought in the Second World War, gaining the rank of Major in the service of the 5th City of London Rifle Brigade. He co-authored The London Rifle Brigade, 1919-1950 (Aldershot: Gale & Polden, 1952) with R.H.W.S. Hastings. Tom also worked as a journalist for the Daily Telegraph. He lived in Marlow. Thomas is a nephew of Edward (Law) Durand, a cousin of Mortimer Durand and a first cousin once removed of Dickon Durand and Marion Campbell. Tom Durand (1900-1961) “So through the driving clouds the sun again” “Put you off the sloth of waiting” “The sunset’s glow behind us; in the trees” “Sing on, O south west wind” “When last I saw these hills the breath of spring” “Have you a song for men” Kentish Morning “There’s all the world to sing” From In Memoriam R.H.H.S. “Not with the gale, O God” The Road “Once would come to me by night” Nocturne The Road Now will I rise and take the road again And leave you, fairest city of delight. What if my dreams are dead, my hopes in vain? Soft to the pilgrims are the wings of night. Behind, the lights. Before, the road half seen That calls again to unknown lands afar. Fast closed the gates that held what might have been, Bright o’er the distant hills a single star. O deathless token of the hopes of man, O golden symbol of the days to come, Remote as when my stormy quest began, Shine yet a little. Lead me wondering home. What if alone I fare? A single load Is mine. And by the way the linnets sing. No false friend now shall tempt me from the road, Nor see that meeting which its end shall bring. Marion Campbell (1919-2000), of Kilberry Castle in Scotland, had 80 books published and as many other drafts written. The subjects were mostly archaeological and historical (including Argyll: The Enduring Heartland and a biography of the Scottish King Alexander III), but her fiction works were also enduring. They include four historical novels for children, including The Wide Blue Road, and a fantasy novel for adults called The Dark Twin, from which a couple of these poems have been taken, and which has been recorded as an audio book. The verses here are taken from Argyll: The Enduring Heartland (London: Turnstone Books, 1977), The Dark Twin (London: Turnstone Books, 1973) and Yesterday was Summer (Argyll: Argyll Publishing, 2007). The verses from the fantasy novel The Dark Twin echo the Celtic bardic tradition, and Marion’s fondness for the ancient Scottish Celtic tradition. The verse included from Yesterday was Summer (“Oh, I am the Clever Miss Somebody”) is a comic take on her well-to-do relatives’ perception of her. One of the verses included from Marion's best-known book Argyll: The Enduring Heartland, ‘Levavi Oculus’, was read out at her funeral. It reflects her connection with nature: “you heard instead The mountain mosses singing at your tread, And saw the views Heart-lifting…Here is the open heaven”. Marion is a granddaughter of Edward (Law) Durand, a niece of Mortimer Durand, a cousin of Dickon Durand and a first cousin once removed of Tom Durand. Marion Campbell (1919-2000) The Archaic Smile Levavi Oculos Erik of Greengarth’s Song Envoi: ‘Island Years’ From The Dark Twin ‘Oh, I am the Clever Miss Somebody’ Levavi Oculos “I have been in the hills all day; “I have not heard the news.” No, but you heard instead The mountain mosses singing at your tread, And saw the views Heart-lifting, of the shadows in the bay. Down, down and down below You looked to where men count the days; But here, where winter stays And sudden drops his cloak and turns to spring, Is no such thing. Here in the open heaven, spinning and standing fast, Held on the big tops’ shoulders; here is height Soaring beyond mortality; and air That moves eternal there Which but to taste, teaches delight And heals time past. And here the spring-foot doe Treading across the moss comes curiously, Here the white hare sits watching from a ledge And there, the very edge Of magic, whistling liquidly, The golden, golden plover wheel and go. And hark! What others come? Wild swans, the soul of storm, Beating their great vans in the sky And from long golden throats Sounding out haunting notes, The trumpets of an older chivalry; And, tilting in the wind, the eagles Not of Rome. But to come down again, To leave the holy ground and tread the earth, In from the brightness of infinity, Casting the lost glow of divinity Back to distress and dearth, Cramping beneath the burdens – God the pain! Cry, for we left our paradise today; But when we turn and load Accustomed burdens, grieving, if we say “None knows what we forego!” Then one says, low, “I, too, joyfully trod my hills and came away, “And bore a Burden up a stony road.” Dickon Durand (1934-1992) was educated at Sydney University, Australia, and Salisbury and Wells Theological College, England, studying Theology and English. Dickon was the Church of Ireland Rector of St. Mary’s Collegiate Church in Youghal, Co. Cork. He lived in Ireland, England, Australia and Canada. Dickon was a steam train enthusiast and collected trains, stamps and militaria, among other things. As a hobby he also made model boats, planes and soldiers, painted them and made flags for them. He was baptised Henry Mortimer Dickon Marion St. George Durand but was known as Dickon after the character in ‘The Secret Garden’ who was taken from his sick bed by a girl and shown the beauty of the secret garden. This was the favourite book of his wife, Stella Durand, who showed him the beauty of nature, just like the characters of the book. He was afflicted with illnesses, and liver Cancer took him at the age of fifty-eight, but his poetry shows he connected with God through nature. Dickon is buried at Castlemartyr, Co. Cork. He had been writing a novel (‘David and Marita’) when he passed on and his widow finished it. Dickon is remembered as a man of deep kindness and broad knowledge. His poems Stranger in a Southland and Apocalypse were published in ‘The Religious Educator’. Dickon is a grandson of Edward (Law) Durand, the son of Mortimer Durand, the husband of Stella Durand, the father of Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand, a cousin of Marion Campbell and Tom Durand and a grandfather of Mary Durand. Dickon Durand (1934-1992) 109 The Lord of Life Stranger in a Southland Apocalypse Apocalypse I dreamed I stood upon a lofty hill And saw the world outspread beneath my feet, And all the cities since the world began, And all the greatness that mankind has known. I had not felt the scorching sun grow near But now it burned in blood-wed glory on the earth And melted all the mighty towers of men And all was hot and dry as desert sand. And now I walked on dark primeval mud But left no mark for I did not exist; For I had seen the ending of the world Which is, and is not, and will never be. There was no history, for the world had come And gone in such a space that none could see And only mud that boiled should linger on And that should cease. I heard a voice that spoke, a voice so vast It filled the universe, but spoke to me. It said these words “I was in the beginning And the end, for only I exist – I am.” And then I stood upon a plain of golden sand And there was no horizon or an end For I had walked upon the sands of time, But now I walked upon eternity. Stella Durand (1942-) is a Church of Ireland Rector, writer, scholar, teacher and musician. She studied Theology, Philosophy and English at Trinity College Dublin, the Sorbonne in Paris, St. John’s College Durham, University College Dublin and the Milltown Institute of Theology and Philosophy. Stella is currently doing a Ph.D on Theology of Religion. She was awarded the degree of M.Litt. for her thesis ‘Teleology in the Cosmologies of John Scottus Eriugena and Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’, UCD (2004). Stella is the author of several books, including ‘Drumcliffe: the Church of Ireland parish in its north Sligo setting’ (Manorhamilton: Drumlin Publications, 2000) and co-author of ‘Tidal Dreams’, an anthology of six poets. She has had poetry published in ‘Voices Israel’, ‘The Sligo Champion’, ‘All Boys Can Dance’ and ‘Public Eye’. Stella has taught Music, Religion, Hatha Yoga, English and French. She continues to teach today as well as her ministry and her studies. She is the mother of Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand, a grandmother of Mary Durand, the wife of Dickon Durand, the daughter-in-law of Mortimer Durand and a first cousin twice removed of Eva Gore-Booth and a great, great niece of Sarah Wynne. Stella Durand (1942-) It is in me Burning Bush Raindrops At Dawn a Holy Silence Prayer of Silence God's Ears Smile Dreams Womb of Silence Healing Sounds Enlarge The Place Of Your Tent The Sea-Green Girl Behold My Glory The Three Magi It is in me That song of an unseen bird Is not among the cedar fronds It is in me. Sap rises not alone In pink stalks, brown stumps, Grey tree-trunks, It's in me too. Atoms dancing Dances in my veins Suns rays shine steadily Through my eyes Wind blows through my lungs and breath. Animals rest trusting, Beneath my fingers. The cry of the hurt, The sob of the lonely The tears of the sorrowing Well up in me. The bruises of the beaten, The down-trodden, the exploited Are on my skin. The worlds' dawning joy Rises in me too. And when your hand touches mine In friendly clasp I see no extra limb For we are one, And eyes meet eyes In a joinedness, To which all around Belongs. Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand (1974-) studied Philosophy, Parapsychology, Herbalism, Journalism, Web Design amd English Language Teaching at the University of Ulster, Milltown Institute of Theology and Philosophy, The National Training Authority, the College of Management and I.T. and Bath College. He also did a module of poetry in University. His poem ‘The Palaces of Nature’ won a bronze medal in the Voicesnet poetry competition. Edward recites his poetry at various events and leads Poetree Walks reading poems about trees in various woods throughout Ireland. He produced, researched and presented the radio programme ‘Mysterious Worlds’ on Anna Livia FM. He has had poems published in a book of ‘The International Library of Poetry’, the magazine of ‘The Milltown Institute’, the fanzines ‘Muse’ and ‘Chimera’, the radio station ‘Anna Livia FM’, and various websites and publications. His poetry is mystical and philosophical, as with most of the poets here. He is inspired by nature, those who shone in the light of Truth, and my own mystical experiences. Edward is the father of Mary Durand, a son of Dickon and Stella Durand, and is related in some way to all the poets in this book. Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand (1974-) Woven Prophecies Child of the Wild The Wouldland The Palaces Of Nature The Symphony Of Nature Whispering Willow of Wonder Solar Gold Trancemutation The West Wind A Fountain Of Blessings Radiant Dawn The Voice of the Silence Hazel Cosmic Fire The Palaces Of Nature The blades of grass glisten in the sunlight and dance with the freshening breeze, reaching out to embrace the sun, kissed by its loving warmth. And a glimmer of blue hope stretches across the sky. As the sun shines through the clouds the shadow recedes from the landscape and a smile stretches across the land. The rains have already nourished and cleansed, dancing their blessings on the welcoming earth. The sun now shines in majesty and the earth reflects its light in glory. This is that magic land of myth not all paradises were paved. The kingdom of light reigns in the palaces of nature. Mary Durand (2005-) is the daughter of Edward (A.C.D.P.) Durand and the granddaughter of Dickon and Stella Durand. Although these poems were written when only a young child, she displayed a profound wisdom to rival the greatest sages. Her words are from the heart and, as with her ancestors, show she connects with the eternal through nature. She is now studying Psychology in Limerick. Mary Durand (2005-) Nature Is The Time When The Wind Blows The Flowers Dance Too The Song Is Too Beautiful The Imaginist Creator’s Big Tiger-Lily The Greatest Tiger-Lily The Days of the Bees and Fairies “The World is Great” The Light The Light The light loves the sky and the flowers gleam in the sunlight And the flowers hug the sky with the grass everywhere On the earth all the time loving the earth even Ireland With everyone loving all the rabbits too and the trees Branches LOVING the earth all the time and the light shines On the earth and the light will gleam in your eyes And loving you and a blue star will come and it will Mean you will have a new world coming And everyone loves you and everyone loves me And it is very happy |
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