Jim McGovernDear wee robin, dear, So snug in winter yet full of fear. In summer green thou art in gear With squabs three or four so near. However safe they are to-day They have enemies in their way Here, there and everywhere.
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Malachy McCullaghDown in the bright green grass I lie And watch the planes in the clear blue sky, I’ll be a pilot one day soon And fly my plane straight up to the moon.The man in the moon will say to me, Do stop and have a cup of tea, And all the stars will sparkle by, For I shall fly so high - so high.One morning I’ll start up my plane, Fly round the world and back again, And when I’ve seen all I can see, I’ll come home to mammy and to tea.
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Michael McAliskeyI The referee blew the whistle and The ball was thrown in The players jumped high for it And were at it thick and thin.II Down the field the ball went sailing, Players striving main and might But the kick was unavailing for The umpire signalled wide.III The forwards all were playing well, The backs were well-behaved, Then a sizzling shot was taken But the goalie quickly saved.IV ‘Twas drawing near the close of play And near the full time call When little Dan Quinn, hurrah! Jumped high to catch the bait.V He soloed and he dummied, He raced…
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John NugentSummer! Summer! The call of the plover! When the lark cries And Spring dies, O Summer! Summer!Summer ways are here again, When day lives till after 10 p.m. While the honey bees work And the hedge-sparrows chirp, O Summer! Summer!Summer days, school is o’er, September back to chore, Sea waves roar, “Golden Summer is no more”, O Summer! Summer!
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R DoyleSleek, svelte, and long, the shimmers of sun Slip and steal through the branches. And the sky carries clouds that float and run Propelled and pummelled by a young April breeze.A ripple of shiver creases the lake Where the water bird settles, And bright green fields sound the song Of a new birth - promising, fruitful and young.And an old world listens And understands - but does not feel.
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Joe McLoughlinI’m sure you’ve heard or read about, The satellites in space, How Russia and the United States Are in the rocket race.To hear them talk it won’t be long, The moon they will conquer soon, And then what next will man attempt, If he should reach that moon?Russia leads so far, By their flights towards the moon, And according to Khruschev, They’ll be up again soon.If they do go up again, Who’ll follow them but Colonel Glenn ? And if he does he’ll be the toast, Of more than American space men.
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Eugene HughesUp the stream, With rod and tackle, To fish for bream, Goes Bobby Mackle.Quickly throwing out the bait He leisurely sits in wait, For some unwary bream, To break the placidness of the stream.The captured fish starts to plunge about Alas, he’ll never get it out, The fish it swims away, But he says there’ll be another day.
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R DoyleGrey smoke, blue grass, A lift of wind, Sky of brass. In a long slope Comes down a bird, Alert, soft-falling Down to earth in a spiral.Sharp eyes watching, Dull heart longing, Human heart lifting In vain desire to imitate; To be away, far separated, Looking down From some spire of height.
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John HannaO Colonel Glenn, you hero so bold Remember this as now you’re told. Next time you pass high over head Think of me and my buzzing head If you were here you’d quake and shake, So drop a bomb just for my sake.I’d like to shout, I’d like to sing, I’d like to dance out in a ring. But I’m afraid I have to hurry, In case the teacher’s in a flurry. Still I’m made to laugh when I think of you Out in orbit in the blue.
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'TheBreastplate' Editorial Written By Owen Quinn - 1961
The launching of a magazine is somewhat intoxicating. Pioneers, however, we cannot properly claim to be. Sounder-than-rumour has it that the heady stuff of earlier Academy magazines enlivened the times. But if one door is shut by Providence, a massive gate is often opened to make up for it. Thus the same historical fact which deprives this paper of some of the panache associated with innovators, confers on it the romantic mystique of the phoenix - an Irish symbolic bird if ever there was one. The Breastplate, then, is rearing itself up out of the ashes of precursors. We hope it will sing ‘gan fhuigheall, gan easbhaidh, gan locht fénics eile lan d’éifeacht” and that our bird may never come to nest in death or flames.
Speculation on the uses of a school magazine can hardly be separated from consideration of the general benefits to be derived from attendance at a college of the Academy’s kind. The more obvious advantages come to mind immediately. The Academy equips its pupils to wrest from modern economic circumstances a decent livelihood later in life; independently of bread and butter, the subjects taught here drill and excise the wits of students and so build them up intellectually; most important of all, the Academy gives its boys something to lean on as they take their first steps towards integrating religion with other aspects of living.
But the school is less frequently given credit for being a nursemaid protecting its children for a few extra years from the community in its harsher and more impersonal forms - the State, for instance - from all the things that are Caesar’s, and from the heartless business machine’s insatiable appetite for anonymous cogs. These advantages are augmented and intensified by the very existence of The Breastplate.
Further, it is another tie binding more closely and reinforcing the Academy community and everybody connected with it. Again, as a provider of worthwhile information The Breastplate may be seen as a forward step in the direction of a telephone directory, while as a platform for airing views it looks to Hyde Park Corner! But the magazine has its less obvious uses. Do not overlook that short flights in a school magazine perform this less obtrusive function, that they deprive print of the cachet of the unfamiliar. Editors know how the mere expectation of seeing his name in print upsets the novice writer, so much so that he tries too desperately hard, loses his sense of proportion, and fails to do himself justice. The Breastplate should reduce vulnerability in this sense.
The request for contributions was responded to, to an overwhelming extent. Enough material was submitted to stuff a couple of Breastplates to bursting-point. For this, and for the enthusiasm it implies, praise is due to the Academy teachers of Irish and English: Dr. MacLarnon, Master Ryan and Father McInteggart. Contributors, whose work does not appear in this number, are assured it will be included, "le congnamh Dé," in forthcoming issues. Finally, the appearance of the magazine comparatively early this month is due to Miss Kathleen Devlin s heroic efforts in the fields of typewriting end pagination.