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Perhaps I Will Never Again See

Perhaps I will never again see Hibernia's Shore
Or climb up the high field of green Claramore
For it is a steep one Jack Johnny's high field
That lead to the foot of Clara where grass to bracken yield.

When the nesting birds sing on the hedgerows of May
And the hawthorns are in their blooms of white to gray
The skylark is singing as upwards he does fly
A musical dot in the gray evening sky.

When the tadpoles are wriggling in the watery drain
In the fields of Claraghatlea lush after recent rain
And bluebells bloom on the ditch of the bohreen
And Nature's wildflowers everywhere to be seen.

A poet I have never pretended to be
But the past it does live on in my memory
In my flights of fancy I hear and I see
The male robin sing on a leafy birch tree.

Perhaps I will never see Clara again
Or hear the birds sing in the wind and the rain
When the grass growing winds of late April are blowing
And the pheasant cloaked in the high rushes is crowing.

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