In Ireland Today Poem by Francis Duggan

It is hardly the sort of weather for making of hay
A cloudy high of nineteen degrees in Ireland today
The first of the calendar Autumn just eleven sleeps away
And that the best of the Summer has gone only true to say
Above the old fields chirping as they fly
The dark swallows are chasing flying insects in the sky
In early October they fly south to Winter in the warmer clime
And they will return home to breed when Spring is in her prime
Though the sun is not always shining and the sky of cloud not always clear
In Ireland late August can be a nice time of year
Weather-wise the best of the Summer in the forever gone
And the year getting older and time ticking on
In less than a fortnight from now in time not long at all
It will be the first of September and the calendar Fall.