Spring Has Come To Ireland Poem by Francis Duggan

The skylark o'er the upland meadow sing
As up to greet the morning sun he wing
And singing ever singing as he fly
Till cloaked by clouds and lost to human eye.

By slated cottage on a hawthorn tree
The redbreast pipes his happy melody
His patient wife nearby sits on her nest
With tiny eggs beneath her warm breast.

The joyful dipper chirping in the stream
And wildering flowers bloom midst the grass so green
The wind blow mild a soft Spring shower of rain
And then the warming sun shines out again.

Neck feathers gray though overall quite black
The jackdaws chackling on the chimney stack
With stick in beak to chimney nest then fro
A small though quite familiar breed of crow.

The shlaun man in peat bog shlaun out the peat
For sun to dry his fuel for Winter heat
He toil all day till aching arms tire
For to sit on Winter nights by glowing turf fire.

Golden buttercups bloom by the grass fringed rill
And horned black faced ewes in field by bracken hill
Bleat to their lambs who frolic round and round
And joy of Spring has come to poor high ground.

In leafy groves the songbirds pipe all day
In a green Land thousands of miles away,
A morning shower the sun shines through the gray
And Spring has come to Ireland it is May.