i am naïve
to this part of the world
but my fancies often here
roam and love her mysteries sore.
Like a blue vase of white roses
dripped in the morning mist
i see an Irish ghost
dancing in the breeze.
Here the darkness steals
the light’s charm and icy winds
hum the Celtic tunes, and bring
the golden fairies down, to play
hide and seek in the misty woods
and kiss the snowy lakes and
laugh and sing.
Such is the charm, that’s loosed
upon this enchanting land
and surely lulls my frantic fears
stiffened by nightmares,
and fill my days
full of praise…