My Wicklow Hills (Erie)
There's dew on the grass and bloom on the rose
Red deer on the hills where the white heather grows.
The splash of the stream rushing down through the glen
With an eagle in flight and a fox in his den.
A fleecy white cloud floating high in the sky
With the beating of wings as the wild geese pass by
The green shade of pine trees so straight and so tall
Through their branches the glint of a cool waterfall.
A small winding road leading up through the hill
Whence a view of the vale and the old watermill,
The call of the plover is heard in the air
So plaintive as if we weighed down with care.
A hare from his burrow so tall and erect
His ears at the ready each sound to detect.
With summer brings joy to nam and to beast
And colours of nature to eves are a feast.
And now in the evening as peace reigns supreme
All nature has entered the land of the dream.
The sun now turns red at the end of the day
And darkness descends as she sheds her last ray.
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On The Somme
The noise of the battle is over
And silence descends on the land
There's peace on the face of that soldier
We see lying there on the sand
No sound from those pale lips are uttered,
Or flicker from eyelids half-closed,
Blonde hair blowing soft in the chill wind
As if for a painting, he'd posed,
Where did you come from young soldier?
Who waited for you to come home
From the war to end wars? as they promised
Back to land from which you'd ne'er roam.
Perhaps there's a letter you cherished
In the pocket right next to your heart.
And a photo you gazed at with longing
So often since you were apart.
It was on the TV that we saw you
With an old man, who cried bitter tears
As he spoke of the comrades he'd lost there,
And the mud, and the pain, and the fears.
It's many long years since you fell there
But the world's never stopped talking 'bomb'
We haven't learnt much in between , lad,
Poor handsome young man on the Somme.
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