The Silver Tongue Rill Poem by Francis Duggan

From the heights of Claramore in a voice that is never still
In fancy i can hear the silver tongue rill
It's babble is with me from fields far away
Good memories of what was till death in one stay

When the mild winds of April from the mountains do blow
The dark brown water bird dipper of breast white as snow
Does sing in the rill just after sunset
Some things from the past one does never forget

Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways today i enjoy
Yet years later and far south of where into a man i did grow
So little about her i can claim to know

The now is what matters as most would agree
But we re-visit the good memories of the what used to be
In a Claraghatlea field i can hear a cow low
Where the silver tongue rill to the river does flow

Where i grew to love Nature many decades ago
Long before the tick of time became my foe
Today the silver tongue rill from high Claramore
Is babbling to the rivers to the Atlantic shore.