Ire’ Land
Cuculain was there,
dreamt by skiff’d seas
and beehive huts
till Patrick called to Joy
those of farm and sacrament.
Eire,
Sweet Eire!
thee honeysuckle maidens
sing a chaste past
without regard to time or fashion
your Ave Maria’s in the rain
drip-drop Holy Water
echoing Baptism’s song:
Sing to me again!
No comments:
Post a Comment