Montgomery County Sentinel

Farm Boy, Dead Poet,
And a Walking Stick

This is the story of a poor farm boy, a dead poet and a blackthorn stick. I first saw the boy when he was half a century young and by that time a veteran newspaper man.

His name is Bishop and he looks like one.

I first saw the stick the other morning, lying across the chair in the club which is always reserved for "Bish."

The poet. John Boyle O'Reilley. I knew for one verse of his which I learned by heart for my first love.

It goes like this:

"Oh, the red rose breathes of passion
And the white rose breathes of love,
The red rose is a falcon
And the white rose is a dove . . ."

O'Reilley, a wild Irish lad, was born in County Meath, Erin, a hundred years ago. He came early to America, fought his fights, burned with his love for the Ould Sod, and wrote his poems. Today he stands, immortalized in stone by the famous sculptor, Daniel Chester French- in Boston, his adopted city.

The year the poet died, or thereabouts, a little fellow in a Texas village saw a toy balloon and coveted it as only youth can yearn for a bauble whether it be a plaything, a maiden's heart or the moon. But toy balloons cost 10 cents and pennies were few for Texas farmboys.

Years passed, the desire for that balloon faded but the wound for its lack lingered. The boy grew up, sometimes lonely perhaps, for he never married, but never alone.

Never very long alone, for "Bish" loves dogs, children, people.

He also loves walking sticks and is never without one. But he never owned a blackthorn. This morning one of those many friends of his brought this fine old heirloom- black, powerful, sprouting its strong thorns like Ireland aroused, its head worn smooth and gentle as an Irish heart, by the hand of John Boyle O'Reilley, who carried it for many years.

The friend laid it affectionately in Bishop's hands.

And then Bish' told us, with a reminiscent twinkle in his eye but a note in his voice that belied it, about the balloon and the age-old ache.

"Now," he said, caressing his new prize, "John Boyle O'Reilley's cane has more than made up for it."

I think the poet looked down and smiled.
Farm and Homilies by
Baukhage