Page 86 - Demo

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Stephen Dunford: The Journey of The IrIsh
And still from heavenly choirs thou steal’st by night To tell sweet Aves in the woods unseen,
To tend the shrine-lamps with thy flambeau white And set thy tender footprints in the green.
Thus sing our birds with holy note and pure, As though the loves of angels were their theme; Thus burn to throbbing flame our sacred fires With heats that still endure;
Thence hath our daffodil its golden gleam, From thy dear mindfulness that never tires!
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