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“Sweeney Praises the Trees” · The Daily Poem

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  [music]
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  SPEAKER_00: Welcome back to The Daily Poem, a podcast from Goldberry Studios.
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  SPEAKER_00: I'm Sean Johnson, and today is Friday, October 2nd, 2026.
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  SPEAKER_00: Today's poem is an unattributed traditional Irish poem, here translated by Seamus Haney.
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  SPEAKER_00: It's called Sweeney Praises the Trees.
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  SPEAKER_00: Our speaker,
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  SPEAKER_00: Sweeney,
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  SPEAKER_00: finds things to appreciate about a whole host of trees,
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  SPEAKER_00: some that might strike others even as unlikable.
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  SPEAKER_00: In the end,
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  SPEAKER_00: there's just one thing about trees or a tree adjacent thing that he is not quite
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  SPEAKER_00: so enthusiastic about.
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  SPEAKER_00: And that one thing is also a clue maybe to Sweeney's age.
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  SPEAKER_00: So hearken all you tree lovers.
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  SPEAKER_00: Here's the poem.
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  SPEAKER_00: Sweeney praises the trees.
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  SPEAKER_00: The branchy,
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  SPEAKER_00: leafy oak tree is highest in the wood,
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  SPEAKER_00: the shooting hazel bushes hide sweet hazelnuts.
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  SPEAKER_00: The alder is my darling,
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  SPEAKER_00: all thornless in the gap, some milk of human kindness coursing in its sap.
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  SPEAKER_00: The blackthorn is a jaggy creel,
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  SPEAKER_00: stripled with dark sloughs,
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  SPEAKER_00: green watercress is thatch on wells where the drinking blackbird goes.
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  SPEAKER_00: Sweetest of the leafy stalks, the vetches strew the pathway.
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  SPEAKER_00: The oyster grass is my delight, and the wild strawberry.
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  SPEAKER_00: Low-set clumps of apple trees drum down fruit when shaken.
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  SPEAKER_00: Scarlet berries clot like blood on mountain rowan.
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  SPEAKER_00: Briars curl in the sideways, arch a stickle back.
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  SPEAKER_00: Draw blood and curl back innocent to sneak the next attack.
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  SPEAKER_00: The yew tree in each churchyard wraps night in its dark hood.
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  SPEAKER_00: Ivy is a shadowy genius of the wood.
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  SPEAKER_00: Holly rears its windbreak, a door in winter's face.
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  SPEAKER_00: Lifeblood on a spear shaft darkens the grain of ash.
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  SPEAKER_00: Birch tree, smooth and pale skinned, delicious to the breeze.
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  SPEAKER_00: High twigs, plat and crown it, the queen of trees.
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  SPEAKER_00: The aspen pales and whispers,
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  SPEAKER_00: hesitates,
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  SPEAKER_00: A thousand frightened scuts race in its leaves,
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  SPEAKER_00: But what disturbs me most in the living wood Is the swishing to and fro of
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  SPEAKER_00: an oak rod.
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  SPEAKER_00: This has been The Daily Poem.
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  SPEAKER_00: Thank you for listening.
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  SPEAKER_00: We'll be back next week with more poetry for you.
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  SPEAKER_00: Till then,
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  SPEAKER_00: find us at dailypoempod.substack.com to listen to past episodes of The Daily Poem,
• 2:36
  SPEAKER_00: to leave your own thoughts and comments, or subscribe and support the show.
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  SPEAKER_00: For all of us at Goldberry Studios, I'm Sean Johnson wishing you happy reading.