The
Irish Connection is a good one within my family and very good friends.
Saint
Patrick’s Day is Sunday. It is the day supposedly everyone is Irish. It rings
true to me since there is a predominance of Irish blood that runs through my
veins or should I say, “me veins”.
A number
of my Celtic ancestors came from the old sod during the potato famine of the
mid eighteen hundreds and established roots in Canada and the New England
states.
I don’t
know much about those folks or their needed escape from famine and oppression,
but I do know the stories of mirth and woe from songs that my Mother would play
on the piano and the family would sing when I was young.
A few
years ago I spent some time in Ireland, not as a tourist for I had done that on
other travels, but as a resident in one place so I could experience the Irish
life. The result was expressed in poetry. Here is one expression.
Ireland
© 2006
Rolland G. Smith
Much
pain was felt before the joy
As
history will attest.
Old
Ireland’s memory does employ
A hunger
all detest.
But now
the Irish share their mirth
With
Emerald green and mist.
T’was
not the land of “me own birth,”
But tis
a land I’ve kissed.
I’ve
come to see and be as one
With the
Irish spirit.
It’s
there I know, it’s halcyon
Listen
and you’ll hear it.
It comes
from harps and leprechauns
And
pipsiewaggins too.
It comes
from tunes from vagabonds;
The
gypsies traveling through.
I smell
the peat smoke wafting pass
The
green grass scented air.
Reminding
me of Erin’s past
And
Celtic colleens fair.
The
rainy mist has finally gone
And I
can see the sun.
With
feathers dried and birds in song
The damp
is finally done.
Though
fair, this day, a chilly one
Set high
along the coast.
The
cragged rocks today’s dolmen
Is
nature’s mark to toast.
But in
this land forever green
The mist
is part of her.
Tis here
that I have keenly seen
The sun
to rain defer.
Happy
Saint Patrick’s day to all.
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