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Duhallow In July

The dark barn swallows do chirp as they fly
In pursuit of flying insects in the sunlit sky
Above the old fields of Duhallow in July
Where it has not rained for a week the weather warm and dry
Though born in a ground nest he must fly to sing
The song of the lark is such a beautiful thing
The warm air full of the buzzing of flies and of bees
And the sweet scent of freshly cut grass wafting in the breeze
Though it sometimes does rain and the sky not always clear
Summer in Duhallow is a nice time of year

Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
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Sunday, October 30, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: july
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from 'rhymeonly'
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