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Far North

Far north even as the crow fly from this southern shore
The swallows fly above old green Claramore
And the rill from the high ground along by the hedgerow
On down to the river babbles as it does flow.

The lark is carolling in the blue Summer sky
And the meadows scent sweetly of hay in July
And wildflowers bloom on the ditch of the bohreen
And everywhere is looking so lush and so green.

In the sunlit river pool minnows swim about
Their silvery skin gleam in the sunshine the young of brown trout
And in their nest in the grove the baby jackdaws cry
And in and out of the hedgerows the young sparrows fly.

Though the past it is gone the memories remain
And the fields of my boyhood i walk them again
The birds chirp and sing on the bushes and trees
And the sweet scent of hay wafts to me in the breeze.

The harsh and loud caws of the black and gray crow
It seems to be with me to where-ever I go
And though the now is what matter since the past it has gone
The memories of what was in me living on.

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