Glen Lough


Just in off the high road,

Through a sagging gate,

Serpentine the pathway

Winds where tall trees wait.


Whispering o’er its pebbles

Runs the shallow stream;

Earth lies here in beauty,

Enchanted in a dream.


Bluebells clothe the grass banks

With their misty hue,

Laying on the green floor

Carpeting of blue.


Birds have hushed their singing,

Quiet on the bough:

All the woodland creatures

Are waiting for her now.


She comes, my tiny darling,

Wild hyacinths in her arms;

Her radiant childhood beauty

Completes the woodland’s charms.


(Also included in the Category: A Spirit in the Glens)