When I was young and still in school,
I heard about Ireland, an Emerald Jewel.
My aunts who’d come from o’er the sea,
told tales that spoke directly to me.
They described a land filled with green hills
and rivers that ran quiet, almost still.
They told of friendly, caring people,
of ancient churches and great tall steeples.
They spoke so clearly and straight from the heart
that inside of me a love did start.
Was it all myth or was it real?
When I went there what would my heart feel?
Dublin was where our visit did start,
a place where ancient and modern do not part.
Progress and change go on, as they must,
yet relics and traditions are held in sacred trust.
So many people rushed to and fro
but they found time to talk if we said “Hello”.
When the city sights had all been seen
we visited the countryside, a patchwork of green.
Sheep, cows, and flowers were abundant there,
old stone walls and sparkling cottages made beautiful pairs.
Protected Viking ruins recall the old,
while roadside sculptures display new tales to be told.
The Cliffs of Moher have a majesty rare.
We went to the top so we could stare
at the timeless and magnificent sea
beyond which lays our own country.
If ever there was a place where God can be seen
it is at those cliffs among the hills of green.
Every place where we stopped to rest
had music and dance, the very best.
Guinness Stout, Murphy’s and other beers
filled our glasses and brought out cheers.
Too soon our remarkable trip was done,
and it was time for us to go back home.
My questions are all answered now,
Ireland managed to blend myth and reality somehow.
Though our time there is now a memory dear
the sights I still see and the sounds I still hear,
for in my heart there will always be
a place for Ireland, a land across the sea.
