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Their Ireland And Mine on St. Patrick's Day In the purple mist of dreams, I see that emerald in the sea the glens and the magic mountains, and the pipes that call to me. I've never walked on that fair ground, nor have I seen its fabled green. But I harken to its melodies, sung by ancestors I've never seen.. They sang of a green paradise, a land that ,by right, was theirs alone, a land that became divided, its fate in the hands of an alien throne. So those innocents fled their Eden, that precious land they loved so well, and they headed for America, where hopes and dreams might better dwell. As I dream of them and their Ireland, it is mine, too, in a special way. And I ask God to bless all us Irish, on this happy St. Patrick's Day. copyright 2001 by Roland Ricker HOME EMAIL |
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