To A Mother's Grave At Christmas

Tis Xmas Eve, dark, sombre, drear,
And the frost is on the ground
Across the distant vale I clearly see
A silent burial mound
The lofty oak and elm trees
Stand bereft of foliage green
Their bare boughs rustle in the breeze
In this sweet vale-Clogheen

On Xmas Eves of long ago
In memory sweet I dwell
The joys of life I then did vow
Not mine the gift to tell
When by my Mother's knee I lisped a prayer
To Heavens Virgin Queen
That Mother that's now free from care
And sleeping in sweet Clogheen.

The Xmas candle lighting now
Sad thoughts but sweet will bring
Though years are pressing on my brow
My youth is back again
Mother I hear the Aves low
We said each hallowed e'en
With that Mother fond, long, long, ago
Who sleeps in sweet Clogheen.

As Xmas Eve's doth come and go
What e'er might me befall
Youth's festive joys that I did know
I ever will recall
A Mother's tender care and love
Through life I will esteem
And the spot to me is sacred 'bove
A11 else-her grave in lone Clogheen... .....

Denis J Foley,