IRISH OF MY BIRTH
Another year is written in the book,
Yet there is no dimness to my mind.
I see the warm green hills andvalleys,
As the cool streams gurgle to thesea.
I long for the wee words of gnomes,
And the flights of the eveningfairies.
So it is when you so long to be home,
Sitting then beneath my thatchedroof.
And one day with the making of it,
The fortune that will bring me home.
To walk down the long trodden path,
Leading me to the dream of my own.
A place to hang my worn cap and coat,
Resting as from a life long journey.
To be once more a part of the land,
To til the fields and lay the seed.
Yes this is the dream I long fortoday,
As I return to the place of my birth.
So as the island of my ancestorscall,
They beckon me as one of their own
I will set my foot upon the shorenow,
To never trod then upon another soil.
T. Michael Daly
