[From Mannin #9,1917]



Close to the heart of her loved peel she rests,
All pain forgetting, while around her still
The winds, the waters and the. Curlews cry,-
That ancient call that erst St Patrick heard
And with her quiet presence passed away
Bright, burning brands that fired our Island hearts,
And showed the sweetness in our homely ways,
Finding the gold amid the rugged quartz.
'Alas' an old friend mourned 'a light goes out
With her that never will be lit again.'
Nay, friend, the bearer passes, but her lamp
Burns on undying; self-effacing love,
Unselfish aims and single hearted toil
Lighted and kept it clear, while living sparks
Have found responsive glow in kindred minds
That through the daily grinding of the mill,
And through the clanging turmoil of our lives,
Will bring us back to natures oldest call,
The winds, the waters and the curlews cry



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