Tuesday, February 12, 2008


Struggling, and yet for strife unmeet,
True type of trustful love thou art;
Thou liest the whole year at my feet,
To live but one day at my heart.
One day of festal pride to lie
Upon the loved one's heart—what more?
Upon the loved one's heart to die,
O shamrock of the Irish shore!

And shall I not return thy love?
And shalt thou not, as thou shouldst, be
Placed on thy son's proud heart above
The red rose or the fleur-de-lis?
Yes, from these heights the waters beat,
I vow to press thy cheek once more,
And lie for ever at thy feet,
O shamrock of the Irish shore!

Denis Florence MacCarthy, "A shamrock from the irish shore".


Amber said...

You know why I love your blog? Yes, the images are great but the poems you share, the poems of those I've never known . . . they are touching and inspiring in many ways. Thank you my dear sweet friend.

runnerfrog said...

Oh, it is great to know that you appreciate my selection! :-) I post them mostly because I like them more than what I do, and because they come to the case of the topic in some way.
Thanks for saying this.

Deb said...

Now that's a shamrock! Very unique.

runnerfrog said...

It is a shamrock, somehow ;-)
Glad you like it. I like it, and that's not common.

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