John Locke (poet) facts for kids
John Locke (born 1847, died 1889) was an Irish writer. He was also a Fenian activist, which means he supported Irish independence from British rule. He had to leave Ireland and move to the United States. John Locke is most famous for writing a poem called "Dawn on the Irish Coast." It's also known as "The Exiles Return, or Morning on the Irish coast."
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Growing Up in Ireland
John Locke was born in 1847 in a place called Minauns, near Callan, County Kilkenny, in Ireland. Even when he was in school, he loved writing poems on small pieces of paper. His first poem was published in 1863 when he was just 16 years old. In Callan, people especially remember him for his poem "The Calm Avonree." There's even a special plaque on the Town Hall building dedicated to him as a "patriot poet." He wrote many other poems, including "The Old Abbey Well," "The Burial of Sarsfield," and "Twilight on Slievenamon."
His Most Famous Poem
His most famous poem, "Dawn on the Irish Coast," was written in 1877. This poem became so popular that it was even included in school books used by the Irish Christian Brothers. Their founder, Edmund Rice, was also born in Callan. The poem appeared in different books under slightly different names. For example, it was called "Morning on the Irish coast" in a book called Irish Literature. It was also printed as "Dawn on the Irish Coast" in another book called Werner's Readings.
A Talented Hurler
When he was younger, John Locke was known as a very good hurler. Hurling is a fast-paced Irish sport. The local Callan GAA hurling team was even named the "John Lockes" in 1902 to honor him.
Joining the Fenians
While still a teenager, John Locke became involved with the Fenian movement. This group worked for Irish independence. He wrote articles and poems for the Irish People newspaper that spoke out against British rule in Ireland. Because of his writings, the newspaper was shut down. John Locke was arrested and spent six months in Kilkenny jail.
Life in America
After he was released from jail, he spent some time in Manchester, England. There, he helped organize Irish people who had moved away from Ireland but still wanted to oppose British rule. Later, he sailed to America and settled in New York. He became a full-time journalist. His reputation as a writer and activist had already reached America. He quickly became friends with many important journalists, including the scholar and patriot John O'Mahony. He continued to write poetry, often about the people and places he missed in Ireland.
Marriage and Later Life
In 1881, John Locke married Mary Cooney in New York. Mary was from Kilkenny city in Ireland and was also a poet. John's brother, Rev. Dr. Joseph Locke, performed the wedding ceremony. Sadly, John Locke died at the young age of 42 on January 31, 1889.
His Poetry and Legacy
John Locke wrote many short stories and even a few full-length novels. After joining the staff of the Celtic Monthly magazine, he wrote what many consider his best novel, The Shamrock and Palmetto. He also wrote a historical novel called Ulick Grace: A Tale of the Tithes. However, he is best remembered today for his poem "Dawn on the Irish Coast." It's also known as the "Emigrants Anthem." This poem was set to music in 1896 and became a popular song.
Inspiration for "Dawn on the Irish Coast"
The poem was inspired by a friend's story. This older gentleman had briefly returned to Ireland after many years away. He described how he felt when his ship slowly approached the Irish coast as the sun rose. He stood on the ship's deck, and his tired eyes saw a beautiful sight: the green coastline of County Kerry appeared. It was the first time in 30 years he had seen his homeland. John Locke was an exile himself, and he knew he might never see Ireland again. He was deeply touched by his friend's emotional story of returning to Ireland. Because of this, the poem has been shared and quoted at many events, gatherings, and in countless pubs and hotels for over 120 years. When US President Ronald Reagan visited Ireland in 1984, he even quoted the first verse of the poem, which received a lot of applause.
"The Exiles Return, or Morning on the Irish coast"
D'anam chun De! but there it is—
The dawn on the hills of Ireland !
God's angels lifting the night's black veil
From the fair, sweet face of my sireland !
O, Ireland! isn't grand you look—
Like a bride in her rich adornin !
With all the pent-up love of my heart
I bid you the top of the morning !
This one short hour pays lavishly back
For many a year of mourning;
I'd almost venture another flight,
There's so much joy in returning—
Watching out for the hallowed shore,
All other attractions scornin;
O, Ireland! don't you hear me shout?
I bid you the top o' the morning!
O, kindly, generous Irish land,
So leal and fair and loving!
No wonder the wandering Celt should think
And dream of you in his roving.
The alien home may have gems and gold,
Shadows may never have gloomed it;
But the heart will sigh for the absent land
Where the love-light first illumed it
Ho, ho ! upon Cliodhna's shelving strand
The surges are grandly beating,
And Kerry is pushing her headlands out
To give us the kindly greeting!
Into the shore the sea- birds fly
On pinions that know no drooping,
And out from the cliffs, with welcomes charged,
A million of waves come trooping.
For thirty Summers, a stoir mo chroidhe,
Those hills I now feast my eyes on
Ne'er met my vision save when they rose
Over memory's dim horizon.
E'en so, 'twas grand and fair they seemed
In the landscape spread before me;
But dreams are dreams, and my eyes would open
To see a Texas' sky still o'er me.
And doesn't old Cobh look charming there
Watching the wild waves' motion,
Leaning her back up against the hills,
And the tip of her toes in the ocean.
I wonder I don't hear Shandon's bells—
Ah! maybe their chiming's over,
For it's many a year since I began
The life of a western rover.
Oh! often upon the Texas plains,
When the day and the chase were over,
My thoughts would fly o'er the weary wave,
And around this coastline hover;
And the prayer would rise that some future day-
All danger and doubting scorning—
I'd help to win for my native land
The light of young Liberty's morning!
Now fuller and truer the shoreline shows—
Was ever a scene so splendid?
I feel the breath of the Munster breeze,
Thank God that my exile's ended!
Old scenes, old songs, old friends again,
The vale and the cot I was born in—
O, Ireland, up from my heart of hearts
I bid you the top o' the mornin!