Often In My Flights Of Fancy I Can Hear The Pheasant Crow Poem by Francis Duggan

Often in my flights of fancy I can hear the pheasant crow
In the rank rushes of an old field where the Finnow waters flow
On it's way to the Blackwater by ditch and by hedgerow
Through the countryside in Millstreet where to manhood I did grow
True the past has gone forever and we can only live in the here and now
But in my flights of fancy I am back by the Finnow
When the hawthorns are resplendent in their white blooms of the May
And the fields are full of wildflowers and the birds sing all the day
And I often climb on Clara Hill when the sun is in the sky
And the skylark a musical speck above me is carolling upwards as he fly
Of the green countryside below me the scenic views I do enjoy
I retain the love of Nature's beauty that I had as a young boy
And often in my flights of fancy I walk in old fields again
And I hear the robin singing in the sunshine after rain.