The Ballad of Moll Magee

W. B. Yeatsfirst published 1889from Crossways56 lines

Come round me, little childer;There, don’t fling stones at meBecause I mutter as I go;But pity Moll Magee.

My man was a poor fisherWith shore lines in the say;My work was saltin’ herringsThe whole of the long day.

And sometimes from the saltin’ shed,I scarce could drag my feetUnder the blessed moonlight,Along the pebbly street.

I’d always been but weakly,And my baby was just born;A neighbour minded her by dayI minded her till morn.

I lay upon my baby;Ye little childer dear,I looked on my cold babyWhen the morn grew frosty and clear.

A weary woman sleeps so hard!My man grew red and pale,And gave me money, and bade me goTo my own place, Kinsale.

He drove me out and shut the door,And gave his curse to me;I went away in silence,No neighbour could I see.

The windows and the doors were shut,One star shone faint and green;The little straws were turnin’ roundAcross the bare boreen.

I went away in silence:Beyond old Martin’s byreI saw a kindly neighbourBlowin’ her mornin’ fire.

She drew from me my story⁠—My money’s all used up,And still, with pityin’, scornin’ eye,She gives me bite and sup.

She says my man will surely come,And fetch me home agin;But always, as I’m movin’ round,Without doors or within,

Pilin’ the wood or pilin’ the turf,Or goin’ to the well,I’m thinkin’ of my babyAnd keenin’ to mysel’.

And sometimes I am sure she knowsWhen, openin’ wide His door,God lights the stars, His candles,And looks upon the poor.

So now, ye little childer,Ye won’t fling stones at me;But gather with your shinin’ looksAnd pity Moll Magee.

Text: Poetry, by W. B. Yeats (Standard Ebooks, 2024), from the collected editions of 1908 to 1928. Public domain.

In brief

Summary

A homeless woman tells the children who taunt her how she lost her baby.

Moll Magee, an outcast who mutters as she walks, asks the children throwing stones at her to listen and pity her instead. She tells her story: married to a poor fisherman, worn out from salting herrings all day, she minded her newborn baby at night and, sleeping heavily, lay on the child and smothered it. Her husband gave her money and drove her out with a curse. Now she lives on the charity of a neighbour, still told her man will come for her, and keens for her baby as she works. She ends trusting that her child sees God looking on the poor, and asks the children again for pity.

Lines to remember

I lay upon my baby;

A weary woman sleeps so hard!

God lights the stars, His candles,

Line by line

Lines 1 to 4Don't throw stones
Moll speaks straight to the "little childer" who fling stones at her because she mutters. Instead of scolding, she asks for pity, naming herself in the third person, "pity Moll Magee", as if she were already the subject of a ballad.
Lines 5 to 16Her old life
Her husband was "a poor fisher"; her work was "saltin' herrings" all day, so tiring she could "scarce" drag her feet home under the moonlight. She had "always been but weakly". A neighbour minded the new baby by day, and she minded her by night. The dialect keeps the voice close and real.
Lines 17 to 24The baby dies
The tragedy is told in one bare line: "I lay upon my baby". She wakes to find the child cold on a "frosty and clear" morning. "A weary woman sleeps so hard!" is her only excuse. Her husband turns "red and pale", gives her money and sends her back to Kinsale.
Lines 25 to 36Driven out
He shuts the door on her with a curse. She walks away "in silence" past shut windows, under "One star" that shines "faint and green", with straws turning on "the bare boreen". The small, exact details make the dawn feel desolate, until she finds a neighbour "Blowin' her mornin' fire".
Lines 37 to 48Living on charity
The neighbour hears her story and feeds her with a "pityin', scornin' eye", a mix of kindness and judgement. She insists the husband "will surely come", but Moll, piling wood and turf or going to the well, is always "thinkin' of my baby" and keening to herself.
Lines 49 to 56God's candles
She takes comfort in a picture of God opening his door and lighting the stars, "His candles", to look on the poor, and she is sure her baby knows it. She turns back to the children: they "won't fling stones" now, but will gather round and pity her, closing the circle of the opening stanza.

Themes

Guilt and grief

Moll's crime is an accident born of exhaustion, and the poem never judges her. "I lay upon my baby" is stated without excuse, and her grief runs on through daily chores, "thinkin' of my baby" and "keenin' to mysel'". The punishment comes from others: a husband's curse, a neighbour's "scornin' eye", children's stones.

Poverty

The poem is full of hard, poor work: salting herrings all day, fishing with "shore lines", piling wood and turf, carrying water from the well. The baby dies because a "weary woman sleeps so hard". Poverty is not a backdrop but the cause of the tragedy, and God's gaze at the end falls especially on "the poor".

Pity

The poem begins and ends with the same request, "pity Moll Magee". It turns the children, and the reader, from tormentors into listeners. The neighbour's mixed look, both "pityin'" and "scornin'", shows how rare plain pity is, and the whole ballad works to earn it.

Context

The ballad first appeared in The Wanderings of Oisin and Other Poems in January 1889, and Yeats later placed it among the early lyrics he called "Crossways" in Poems (1895).

It is one of three ballads in the group, with "The Ballad of Father O'Hart" and "The Ballad of the Foxhunter". All three show the young Yeats writing in the simple, spoken style of the street ballad and giving voice to poor country people. Moll comes from a fishing community, and her husband sends her back to her home place, Kinsale in County Cork.

Form

Fourteen quatrains in ballad metre, mostly short three-beat lines rhymed on the second and fourth lines ("me" and "Magee", "say" and "day"). Dropped endings like "saltin'" and "mornin'", and words like "childer" and "say" for sea, give Moll a real Irish speaking voice. The last stanza echoes the first, so the story ends where it began.