Denis J Foley Poems

Green Erin in the Sea

There is a land, a fertile land,
I love with all my heart;
It is a land both fair and grand,
From it I'll ne'er dePart;
For the charms sweet of foreign climes,
Appealeth not to me;
I but behold the beauties old,
Of Green Erin in the sea.

It is a land of valleys sweet ,
Of mountains gaunt and brown,
On scenes entrancing, gaY and fair,
Serenely they look down;
A land where sparkling rivers,
Flow by pleasant fen and lea,
Ah! Nature's best is here Portray'd,
In green Erin in the sea.

Its sons are dashing, brave, and bold,
Its daughters mild and fair;
No race or people on this earth,
With them scarce can compare"
Kind hearted, noble, generous leal,
Imbued with Christian charity;
Pure ideals swell their bosoms true,
In green Erin in the sea.

A land of "saints and Scholars,"
Down thro'the centuries fam'd,
In ages past the world o'er,
Renowned and loved its name.
This lovely land, then proud and grand,
Its green flag floated free;
Above its hills, its vales and dell's,
Green Erin in the sea.

Ah! since the oppressor trod her shore,
What patriots true have bled,
To free her from the invader's yoke,
That crushed her "dear dark head."
The galling chains still bind her fast,
In vile servility;
Ah! cruel the fare that decreed it so,
Green Erin in the sea.

Though dark the clouds that loom o'er head,
We catch some fitful gleams;
Of Freedom's Ray which bids us hope,
For thee "Dark Rosaleen."
That soon thy bondage ties cast off,
A Nation great thou'lt be ,
In pride and prestige as of yore,
Green Erin in the sea.

Denis J Foley,
Glounecommane.

 

In Memory Tomas McCurtain

One night as in slumber reposing,
Sweet visions did 'fore me appear,
Scenes of splendour, proud grandeur and glory,
That fill'd my poor heart with great cheer.
I thought that the Sunburst of Freedom,
Had illum'd Eire's azure blue sky.
That its rays resplendently shone down
On Eire-from the realms on high.

I saw from a pinion high, waving,
On the turrets of old College Green,
The standard of "Ireland a Nation"!
Proudly floating in dazzling sheen.
'Neath its folds tens of thousands were thronging
Wild elation thrill'd every frame,
For their land was once more free from bondage,
Had her God-given Freedom obtained.

Martial music sounded far in the distance,
And the thundering sound of the drum;
Soon in grandest array stepping bravely,
See her fearless true sons proudly come.
They were those who were sworn to guard her,
Even though it should cost them their lives;
They were out for the glory of Grauna
And they grudged not the sacrifice.

Mid the cheers of the admiring thousands,
They step boldly and proudly along;
As meekly they withstand the plaudits,
Poured out from the gathering throng.
They halted beneath the green standard,
Proudly floating from yonder high tower;
Then one did appear 'fore the multilude,
Surrounded by pomp, wealth and power.

Twas he who was chosen as Ruler,
Of the regenerated, old, Celtic race,
Who in days not forgotten 'mong the Nations,
Held a proud and a chivalrous place.
When Eire the Isle of Saints and Scholars,
Gain'd fame the wide world o'er;
Like a daz-zling sapphire set in diamonds,
She will now glisten bright as before.

A Fantasy

One night as in slumber reposing,
Sweet visions did 'fore me appear,
Scenes of splendour, proud grandeur and glory,
That fill'd my poor heart with great cheer.
I thought that the Sunburst of Freedom,
Had illum'd Eire's azureblue sky.
That its rays resplendently shone down
On Eire-from the realms on high.

I saw from a pinion high, waving,
On the turrets of old College Green,
The standard of "Ireland a Nation"!
Proudly floating in dazzling sheen.
'Neath its folds tens of thousands were thronging
Wild elation thrill'd every frame,
For their land was once more free from bondage,
Had her God-given Freedom obtained.

Martial music sounded far in the distance,
And the thundering sound of the drum;
Soon in grandest array stepping bravely,
See her fearless true sons proudly come.
They were those who were sworn to guard her,
Even though it should cost them their lives;
They were out for the glory of Grauna
And they grudged not the sacrifice.

Mid the cheers of the admiring thousands,
They step boldly and proudly along;
As meekly they withstand the plaudits,
Poured out from the gathering throng.
They halted beneath the green standard,
Proudly floating from yonder high tower;
Then one did appear 'fore the multilude,
Surrounded by pomp, wealth and power.

Twas he who was chosen as Ruler,
Of the regenerated, old, Celtic race,
Who in days not forgotten 'mong the Nations,
Held a proud and a chivalrous place.
When Eire the Isle of Saints and Scholars,
Gain'd fame the wide world o'er;
Like a dazzling sapphire set in diamonds,
She will now glisten bright as before.

In Memory of Mr. Thomas D. Finn

Ah! sad the news that comes to me this mellow Autumn day,
That a friend sincere-I did revere-from earth had passed away,
His allotted span of life had run, he should obey the call,
Of his Maker; Just and Merciful, who rules above us all.
Tho' tis decreed that man must die, yet, what sorrow doth death bring,
When the weary mortal its mantle dread it flings;
What shock and consternation in every bosom swells,
When from this sphere departs the soul of one we love well;
And so to me the passing of this true and worthy friend,
Bring sad thoughts and recollections my bosom sore to rend.
I now take up my feather pen to write a faltering line,
In an effort vain, his noble traits of character to define.
He was the soul of uprightness and sterling honour bright,
Of chivalrous mind, he ever trod, the paths of Truth and Right,
A ready wit, symbolic of the true and worthy Gael;
Filled was his heart with burning love for poor Granuaile.
A scholar of rich talent, whose tongue did oft' expound,
The wrongs of Mother Erin, no truer son could be found;
A fervent zealous Catholic, a just, God-fearin g mafi,
Whose mode of life, a motto'd be, for any in the land,
Now ere my crude stanzas I endeavour for to end,
To his sorrowing relatives my sympathy I extend;
I ask them cease to mourn him, now mould'ring in the clay,
He's happy 'mong the angel's choirs, where we hope to meet one day.

Denis J Foley, Glounecommane.

A Tribute

The April sunshine deck'd the hills,
And all seemed bright and gay;
But 'round our peaceful, happy home,
Death held relentless sway.
A mother kind and fond and true
Had passed from this earthly sphere,
Aye! still'd her pure and loving heart,
Her voice no more we'll hear.

Oh! would to God I were but there,
To see her breathe her last;
And place my hand on her throbbing brow,
As her life was ebbing fast.
But cruel fate has been thus unkind,
To one she dearly loved;
For when morning dawned her soul had flown,
To the realms of Bliss, above.

But the Virgin Queen hath atrue friend been,
To her in that moment dread,
And guided her straight up to Heaven's Gate,
When her gentle spirit fled.
To enjoy the reward that the great just Lord,
Doth give unto honest toil,
And a life well spent in this vale of woe
And a heart free from ev'ry guile.

Ah! mother kind, its well I mind,
How you watched with tender care;
Thro' my childhood's hours, in affection fond,
You soothed each sorrow there.
As by your knee in childish glee,
I oft did romp and play;
Yes, there with fervour deep also,
You taught me how to pray.

Ah! mother dear as time rolls on,
I shall mourn your passing sore,
And your mem'ry deep in my heart I'll keep,
And cherish for evermore.
The May flowers bloom, and the hills are green,
And the flowers are budding gay;
Each rural scene seems but to wake,
Fresh remembrance sweet alway.

The stately ash now waves above,
The spot where you are lying;
And throu' the branches gaunt and tall,
The zephyrs are softly sighing.
Quiet, undisturbed is your calm sleep,
Amid the kindred dust;
Where parents fond and sisters true,
Within one mound now rest.

Syndicate content