Mary Jacqueline Simon Moore Poems

Let us hail the newborn year,
Come our drooping hearts to cheer,
Let us all be cheerful, gay,
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I love my Bible, for it is
The pure inspired word;
It came from God; it leads to bliss;
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Some people think the Irish mind
Is rough, and coarse, and unrefined,
And cunning too- as I'll admit-
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It is sad to be lonely, when others are gay,
With a cloud o'er the heart to eclipse pleasure's ray;
It is sad to be nursing our sorrows alone,
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Oh! take me to her dying bed,
To get her farewell kiss,
Ere she be numbered with the dead,
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The storm is raging and the drifting snow
Is forming curious ridges on the street,
And still the noisy wild winds loudly blow,
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O how I long again to see
The vernal face of Spring,
And hear, from every budding tree,
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Through the bleak barren wilds and rough uplands I strayed'
And hungry and faint and of dangers afraid,
And foot-sore and weary, I longed to repose
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There is a love of heat intense,
Which like a scorching ray
Consumes the rose of innocence
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I love green fertile Ireland,
The fairest spot on earth,
Where many a happy day I spent
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