Here's a wee poem that I wrote which expresses my own feeling about that magical place called Ireland. While I lived there especially in the place called Glendalough I would walk the hills and everywhere I went I could hear the sound of water flowing . This music filled me beyond any words and brought to the surface a depth of feeling that still sings.
Ireland... this land that sings
in secret, dark, and luscious things.
Ah, this lovely land that streams her scented song
in flowing verse and phrases long.
O'er blue green hills and golden gorse
cross mossied rock and nettles coarse.
Oh, breath! I feel your rising roar
til op'ning earth can bear no more
she cries, she cries
and joyful pours
from glist'ning eyes
to list'ning ears...
her ancient Celtic tears.