With him in Ros-grenca the cattle are lowing At earliest dawn, On the brink of the summer the pigeons are cooing And doves on the lawn. Colum Kill, "St. Colum of the Churches." From An Ode to Ireland1 I TRAVELLED its fruitful provinces round, From Ireland: Historic and Picturesque, by Charles Johnston. By permission of the John C. Winston Co., Publishers. Philadelphia. In Cruacan's land of heroic name Beauty that bloomed when youth was gone, I found strict morals in age and youth, I found them all; I have written sooth. King Alfred travelled for several years in Ireland and wrote this on his departure. ENGLAND This precious stone set in the silver sea, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. William Shakespeare. A ripple of land; such little hills the sky Can stoop to tenderly, and the wheatfields climb; Elizabeth Barrett Browning. And one, an English home gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep-all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace. Alfred Tennyson. |