Full Circle Poem by Dermot McGarthy

He had the smell of the earth about him,
Of six generations in arable clay
Loyal service in Cromwell's military caravan
A planter's paradise, he decided to stay.
From New Model Army to New Model Farm
Saxon and Celt, arm in arm
Mixing blood with familial ties
Became more Irish than the native could realize
When ethics and structure formed a new plan
Consolidated culture defeated the ‘Black and Tan'
His spirit is woven into the old oak tree
With garbled heavy layers of rustic tones
Through which he worships Thee
Not the melee mouthed sodden talk
Endemic in the Urban tide
Communicated with reverent conviction,
Slayed the cynical dragon, turned him on his side
Where ancient land and youthful nation,
Enraptured in the first throes of love
Hand in hand into the future-when Hawk becomes Dove.
Ireland is his haven, Heaven is his home
So, welcome in ‘Fair Stranger'
Make our dream your own.