Francis Duggan Poems

In Summer in the old fields west of Millstreet Town
I often did daydream of literary renown
But daydreams it does seem do seldom come true
And in life we receive what we are only due
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The memories of what was with him remain
And in fancy he is in the past again
By the thermal springs watching the steam bubbles rise
The depths of his love of home only he can realize.
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I remember him in short pants as a primary school going boy
His childhood years in Millstreet he surely did enjoy
But with his family he left Millstreet many decades ago
And distant from Duhallow into manhood he did grow
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The quiet man from Rathduane those who knew him will recall
But the reaper claimed the life of him early the one who will claim the life of us all
Just short of his sixth decade at rest he forever lay
If there is a hereafter no need for him to pray.
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Though the flag of any Nation means nothing to me
A fellow from Ireland is all I can be
From the place I was born and raised in I live far away
And I might feel a stranger in the old Townland today
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Have you ever feared life's hard journey ahead
And thought to yourself I'd be better off dead
And only the hardships of life you have known
In feeling the way you do you're not alone
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In the neighbour's fowl shed in his backyard in the darkness his rooster does crow
In the very small hours of the morning one might say his cockhood on show
For hours on end he keeps on crowing with him I find it so hard to sleep
But just to stay friends with my neighbour my silence on the matter I keep
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The more I learn of birds the more my wonder of them grow
And I come to realize how little about them I do know
And though I recognize many by their chirp or their song
On bird recognition I've often been wrong
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Writers looked on as great by many do not seem great to me
Through different eyes we see things differently
A different meaning in each thing we see
Suppose we would be boring if on all things we did agree
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The morning it is breaking cloudy and gray
It does seem another cool late Winter's day
But the birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
Believe it or not 'tis the first day of Spring
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