Poem: Morning on the Irish Coast
Full transcription of text follows:
"Morning on the Irish Coast" Glory to God! but there it is, the Dawn on the hills of Ireland: God's angels lifting the night's black veil from the fair sweet face of my sireland. Oh, Erin! isn't it grand you look, like a bride in her rich adorning? And, with all the pent-up love of my heart, I bid you the top o'the morning. This one short hour pays lavishly back, for many a year of mourning; I'd almost venture another flight there's such a joy in returning, watching out for that hallowed shore, all other attractions scorning. Oh, Ireland! don't you hear me shout? I bid you the top o' the morning. Ho! ho! upon Cleena's shelving strand the urges are grandly beating; and Kerry is pushing her headlands out, to give us a friendly greeting. In to the shore the sea-birds fly on pinions that know no drooping, and out from the cliffs with welcome charged a million of waves come trooping. Oh kindly, generous Irish land, so leal, so fair, so loving! No wonder the wandering Celt should think and dream of you in his roving. The alien home may have gems and gold: Shadows may never have gloomed it but the heart will sigh for the absent land where the love-light first illumed it. And doesn't old Cove look charming there, watching the wild waves' motion, leaning her back up against the hills, with the tips of her toes in the ocean? I wonder I don't hear Shandon bells! Ah! maybe their chiming's over, for it's many a year since I began the life of a Western rover. For thirty summers, asthore machree, these hills I now feast my eyes on ne'er met my vision, save when they rose o'er memory's dim horizon. Even so, 'twas grand and fair they looked In the landscape spread before me; But dreams are dreams, and my eyes would ope To see Texas sky still o'er me. Now fuller and truer the shore line shows, Was there ever a scene more splendid? I feel the breath of the Munster Hills; Thank heaven! my exile's ended. Old scenes, old songs, and old friends again, The vale and the cot I was born in; Oh, Ireland! up from my heart of hearts I bid you the top o' the morning. Locke.
From the service of Eleanor McGee, American Red Cross nurse at Base Hospital # 23 "The Nouvel" located in Vittel, Vosges, France from 1918-1919 (?).
|Year Range from||1918|
|Year Range to||1919|
World War I