POETRY
WILD Donegal's a sacred place, A land that dreams apart, alone. Like some shy maiden full of grace, Whose heart's her own.
Here the great winds are never laid. And lights and shadows never cease On war-worn hills, and valleys made To shelter peace.
That rainbow burning on the green Ere the soft showers have ceased to fall Comes with the Paradisal sheen To Donegal.
Who that has eyes is armour-proof Against the little bridge and glade, And yonder lough the colour of The nut-brown maid?
Two peasant girls go forth at dawn Or by a wall at even stand. And r behold the veil withdrawn From Fairyland.
And children's faces I recall Half shown, half hidden, while I passed, Which proved the sweetest dream of all Comes true at last.
Wild Donegal's a sacred place.
All the long day a man may fare And see perchance no human face, And meet God there. H. M.
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