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He May Never

He may never see the Paps of Shrone again
Or Caherbarnagh in the fogs of rain
Or Gortavehy with the stony face
He is growing old far south of his first homeplace

The countryside far north of this southern shore
Between the Townsof Millstreet and Rathmore
Though for it he has long shed his last nostalgic tears
And he has no been back there for many years

Yet the mental pictures today he retain
Of the high mountain fields and memories in him remain
Of the greenness of old Hollymount in Spring
The gift of memory is such a marvellous thing

In the leafy groves in the Spring of the year
The singing birds of Nature he fancy he does hear
In that place where he first looked on the lamp of day
From where he now lives in distance far away.

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