{"id":2550,"date":"2013-10-23T11:46:08","date_gmt":"2013-10-23T10:46:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/?p=2550"},"modified":"2013-10-23T11:47:03","modified_gmt":"2013-10-23T10:47:03","slug":"poetry-dan-cavin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/poetry-dan-cavin\/","title":{"rendered":"POETRY BY DAN CAVIN"},"content":{"rendered":"

Rainbows<\/strong><\/p>\n

or<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Ballad of Charlie MacRae<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"rainbow\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Many think when a rainbow hangs over the hill<\/p>\n

That it harbours a crock full of gold,<\/p>\n

A deity worshipped by those who believe<\/p>\n

That love can be purchased or sold.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sir James had a beautiful house in the glen,<\/p>\n

And when he was forty years old<\/p>\n

For lending his name to an eminent cause<\/p>\n

He was given an ingot of gold.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lady Cynthia Marie (young Meg of the Dell)<\/p>\n

A lady of infinite charm,<\/p>\n

If brought to his household and given his name<\/p>\n

She would socially strengthen his arm.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But she sat in his cold house and stared at the moon,<\/p>\n

At the moon, like herself, growing old.<\/p>\n

Whilst he sat at the opposite side of the hearth<\/p>\n

In love with his ingot of gold.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She frequently saw a young shepherd pass by<\/p>\n

With his dog on the way to their sheep.<\/p>\n

And the trill of his whistle and lilt of his song<\/p>\n

Often roused her tired heart from its sleep.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Young Charlie MacRae had a croft on the hill<\/p>\n

His grandfather\u2019s long, long ago,<\/p>\n

Which he shared with his dog and a white whiskered cat<\/p>\n

And the wind and the rain and the snow.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

One morning when James had gone off in the Rolls<\/p>\n

To survey his assets in town,<\/p>\n

His gold and his silver his stocks and his shares<\/p>\n

And had Krugers stayed firm or gone down?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Meg followed the whistling \u2018til under the clouds<\/p>\n

She came to a little white house,<\/p>\n

So little compared with the houses she’d known<\/p>\n

It seemed scarce enough for a mouse.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Upon coming closer she saw with surprise<\/p>\n

There was never a key to the door,<\/p>\n

And feeling secure in a mantle of trust<\/p>\n

She ventured inside to explore.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She smiled; it was surely a man who lived here,<\/p>\n

Those old pots and pans on a shelf,<\/p>\n

The table and chairs and the wag- at- the- wa\u2019<\/p>\n

And an old rocking chair for himself.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When Charlie returned with his dog to their house<\/p>\n

And found Meg inside with the cat,<\/p>\n

He brewed up a drink in an old battered pot<\/p>\n

And that, as you might say, was that!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

For she thought it the loveliest ever she’d had<\/p>\n

Whether Champagne or Chartreuse or Rhone,<\/p>\n

As if by some magic a god had prepared<\/p>\n

An elixir for her lips alone.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sir James found the City in wild disarray<\/p>\n

For the whole money market had flopped,<\/p>\n

And from what he could see there was no guarantee<\/p>\n

That a run on the banks could be stopped.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When the Rolls brought him back to the mansion that night,<\/p>\n

He sat to his meal quite alone,<\/p>\n

Never noticing, lost in concern for his gold,<\/p>\n

That a treasure far greater was gone.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And when he was fully aware of the fact<\/p>\n

And sat to take stock of his life,<\/p>\n

He found that the loss of a mountain of dross<\/p>\n

Was of greater concern than a wife.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

So she stayed there with Charlie and still darns his socks<\/p>\n

And welcomes him home from the moor,<\/p>\n

And although she no longer wears dresses of silk,<\/p>\n

She never considers she\u2019s poor,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

For the moon and the stars have their sparkle again<\/p>\n

And the sun greets the dawn with a shout,<\/p>\n

And their little house glows in the warmth of their love<\/p>\n

And a peat fire they never let out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They treasure the sunshine and welcome the rain<\/p>\n

And offer their thanks every day<\/p>\n

For their sweet daily bread and their warm double bed,<\/p>\n

And the laughter of children at play.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And now when a rainbow hangs over the hill<\/p>\n

And the clouds drift away far above,<\/p>\n

James looks out and still sees a wee crock of gold,<\/p>\n

And Charlie a world full of love.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Daniel Cavin 2013<\/p>\n

\"dan<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dan Cavin <\/a>is an farmer, builder, sculptor, artist and poet. \u00a0He lives in Kinlochleven in the Scottish Highlands with his wife and cats. \u00a0Recently, Dan celebrated his 88th birthday.<\/p>\n

This poem has a similar theme to\u00a0Muna Madan<\/a>\u00a0<\/em>by the Nepalese bard Laxmi Prasad Devkota<\/a>: the outcome of choosing material wealth over emotional happiness resulting in the loss of the latter.<\/p>\n

Dan retains an extraordinary memory for reciting poetry and plays. \u00a0[See\u00a0The<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Rainbows or The Ballad of Charlie MacRae \u00a0   Many think when a rainbow hangs over the hill That it harbours a crock full of gold, A deity worshipped by those who believe That love can be purchased or sold.   Sir James had a beautiful house in the glen, And when he was forty […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":153,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"inline_featured_image":false,"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_caption":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_nocaption":"","_FSMCFIC_featured_image_hide":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3,9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2550","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poety","category-the-arts"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nPOETRY BY DAN CAVIN - Many Roads<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/bodhicharya.org\/manyroads\/poetry-dan-cavin\/\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Albert\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"4 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/poetry-dan-cavin\\\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/poetry-dan-cavin\\\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Albert\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/d65113da84d62fbc945e6ee35f823e2a\"},\"headline\":\"POETRY BY DAN CAVIN\",\"datePublished\":\"2013-10-23T10:46:08+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2013-10-23T10:47:03+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/poetry-dan-cavin\\\/\"},\"wordCount\":736,\"commentCount\":1,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/poetry-dan-cavin\\\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/files\\\/2013\\\/10\\\/rainbow.jpg\",\"articleSection\":[\"Poetry\",\"The Arts\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"CommentAction\",\"name\":\"Comment\",\"target\":[\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/poetry-dan-cavin\\\/#respond\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/poetry-dan-cavin\\\/\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/bodhicharya.org\\\/manyroads\\\/poetry-dan-cavin\\\/\",\"name\":\"POETRY BY DAN CAVIN - 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