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Windharp: Poems of Ireland since 1916
"Windharp: Niall MacMonagle's essential anthology of the last century of Irish poetry
The Easter Rising of 1916 was a foundational moment of the independent Irish state; but while that insurrection continues to divide opinion, there is no disagreement as to the majesty of Yeats's 'Easter 1916', or about the excellence of the Irish poetic tradition over the past century.
Windharp is an anthology that follows the twists and turns of Irish history, culture and society through the work of its remarkable standing army of poets. Edited by Niall MacMonagle, Ireland's most trusted poetry commentator, Windharp is an accessible and inspiring journey through a century of Irish life."
The Easter Rising of 1916 was a foundational moment of the independent Irish state; but while that insurrection continues to divide opinion, there is no disagreement as to the majesty of Yeats's 'Easter 1916', or about the excellence of the Irish poetic tradition over the past century.
Windharp is an anthology that follows the twists and turns of Irish history, culture and society through the work of its remarkable standing army of poets. Edited by Niall MacMonagle, Ireland's most trusted poetry commentator, Windharp is an accessible and inspiring journey through a century of Irish life."
288 pages, Hardcover
First published September 3, 2015
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
August 8, 2022
A mesmerizing collection! It was best company (as far as books are concerned ) while traveling in Ireland and will be reread many times. The selected poems were sensitively and brilliantly put into context by Niall MacMonagle.
June 1, 2025
A fantastic introduction to the Irish literary tradition. MacMonagle's introductory commentary for each poem gives much needed context, and the timeline organized format allow the reader to see the impact of history on the subjects and themes of a well-rounded group of Ireland's writers. Patrick Kavanagh was a personal favorite, but there is something for everyone here!
July 9, 2023
The tide gone out for good,
Thirty-one words for seaweed whiten on the foreshore.
- The Death of Irish, Aidan Mathews
Though wide ranging in subject, style, and poet, the collection still stands as a cohesive whole. Much of it is political - from the 1916 Easter Rising through famine and civil war and The Troubles and modern abortion laws. Much of it is also about the Irish people, and much of it is about the Irish landscape. Even the Irish diaspora. Together they all layer into a complex picture of Ireland.
I bought this in a bookshop in Kinsale, the subject of one of the poems, and read it in Dingle, the subject of others. I don't know if it would have been less moving if I wasn't living in the midst of the history and geography. Easter Rising of 1916 is certainly one of the focal points, and having just been to Kilmainham Gaol I couldn't get through them without crying.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
- W.B. Yeats
Thirty-one words for seaweed whiten on the foreshore.
- The Death of Irish, Aidan Mathews
Though wide ranging in subject, style, and poet, the collection still stands as a cohesive whole. Much of it is political - from the 1916 Easter Rising through famine and civil war and The Troubles and modern abortion laws. Much of it is also about the Irish people, and much of it is about the Irish landscape. Even the Irish diaspora. Together they all layer into a complex picture of Ireland.
I bought this in a bookshop in Kinsale, the subject of one of the poems, and read it in Dingle, the subject of others. I don't know if it would have been less moving if I wasn't living in the midst of the history and geography. Easter Rising of 1916 is certainly one of the focal points, and having just been to Kilmainham Gaol I couldn't get through them without crying.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
- W.B. Yeats
December 8, 2018
The sounds of Ireland,
that restless whispering
you never get away
from, seeping out of
low bushes and grass,
heatherbells and fern....
— from “Windharp” by John Montgue
What a wonderful, and wonderfully assessable collection of poems and poets from Ireland’s modern times. The poems are listed chronically but are best read, I think, in one of two ways:
Either
• by randomly opening to a page and diving in,
or
• by a friend saying, “Have you read this yet?”
In its depth the collection captures universal capital “T” Truth, in its breadth it captures nuggets of the divine. A friend loaned me his copy but—even in a chapter where I’m struggling to make my book collection smaller—I’m getting one of my own.
that restless whispering
you never get away
from, seeping out of
low bushes and grass,
heatherbells and fern....
— from “Windharp” by John Montgue
What a wonderful, and wonderfully assessable collection of poems and poets from Ireland’s modern times. The poems are listed chronically but are best read, I think, in one of two ways:
Either
• by randomly opening to a page and diving in,
or
• by a friend saying, “Have you read this yet?”
In its depth the collection captures universal capital “T” Truth, in its breadth it captures nuggets of the divine. A friend loaned me his copy but—even in a chapter where I’m struggling to make my book collection smaller—I’m getting one of my own.
October 28, 2020
The sounds of Ireland,
that restless whispering
you never get away
from, seeping out of
low bushes and grass,
heatherbells and fern....
(John Montague, Windharp)
Kevin feels the warm eggs, the small breast, the tucked
Neat head and claws and, finding himself linked
Into the network of eternal life,
Is moved to pity: now he must hold his hand
Like a branch out in the sun and rain for weeks
Until the young are hatched and fledged and flown.
(Seamus Heaney, St Kevin and the Blackbird)
Ann Moffett, of Enagh,
who taught people to read and did not charge.
(Mary O'Donnell, Unlegendary Heroes)
that restless whispering
you never get away
from, seeping out of
low bushes and grass,
heatherbells and fern....
(John Montague, Windharp)
Kevin feels the warm eggs, the small breast, the tucked
Neat head and claws and, finding himself linked
Into the network of eternal life,
Is moved to pity: now he must hold his hand
Like a branch out in the sun and rain for weeks
Until the young are hatched and fledged and flown.
(Seamus Heaney, St Kevin and the Blackbird)
Ann Moffett, of Enagh,
who taught people to read and did not charge.
(Mary O'Donnell, Unlegendary Heroes)
April 30, 2023
Poetry is a snapshot of humanity that exposes the heart and carries meaning and connection across borders. Exploring the very source of a poem can help bring it to life in unexpected ways. I had the joy of reading this book of Irish poetry after returning from a second trip to that wonderful country. A great collection of perspectives during some of Ireland's most formative events (at least in recent history) - and calls me to think about where my passion and purpose lie, and the beautiful tension...the internal stretch...from growing roots and branches simultaneously.
June 23, 2017
I really enjoyed delving into this and discovering many new posts. Arranging the poems chronologically is an excellent idea as you see how style changes and the different ways content is dealt with. On the whole I preferred the poems that dealt with landscape, place and religious themes to the overtly political ones but there was much to admire in these too - particularly those that told personal stories rather than being big theme poems. Recommended.
March 20, 2018
Insightful, interesting, heartbreaking, stunning.
October 27, 2018
Excellent.
August 3, 2025
A strong sweep of Irish poetry. Missing On Raglan Road, though.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews