Francis Duggan Poems

Though the culture of Australia he openly embrace
The sad look of nostalgia it comes across his face
When you talk to him of India and his Hometown of Bombay
Still me happy here in Melbourne the dark eyed Rahul say.
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I long to go to where no one's ever been
To Land where human footsteps never trod
Where free born creature human face not seen
But is there such a place called 'Land of God'? .
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I have read how he left Ireland in disgrace
And that he now live in far and remote place
From seat of influence he dropped to the floor
And he won't be Galway's Bishop any more.
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The wind soughing in the tall gums always such a pleasant sound
And the silent shrike thrush searching for insects on the ground
In a quiet park in the mountains and though clouds are looking gray
You won't find a place more beautiful than Mt Worth is in May.
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There are no flowers on Muriel's grave or headstone to mark the spot
Where her bones rest forever more in death she is forgot
And not one come to visit her and witness where she lay
None helped her when she was alive so she doesn't need help today.
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He thought of the good times he knew
The passionate loves in his life
And of how he married for love and love only
But now he detests his ex wife.
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I like his work he overheard her say
He felt quite pleased though he took it the wrong way
'He thought' if she likes my work she will like me
Perhaps I ought to ask her out for tea.
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The moon on Inchaleigh shine ghostly white
And all is quiet at the hour of midnight
Save for the murmuring waters of Finnow
And young calf lowing to her mother cow.
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It's nice to think that when i am not around here down hill towards the sea the babbling stream will run
And rabbits nibble the grass by the hedgerow and magpie on the gum flute in the sun
And life as such will carry on as usual and deciduous trees will lose their leaves in the Fall
To Mother Earth the mother of all Nature the Earth who will receive us one and all.
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The butcherbird piping on the wattle tree
In Cape Paterson in South Gippsland overlooking the sea
And o'er the volcanic cliffs in the clear and sunny sky
The Pacific and silver gulls call as they fly.
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