It may not be by Cashman's Hill that my bones forever will lay <br />Since from the Millstreet I loved as a boy I now live some distance away <br />Though it will not matter to me where I will rest forever more <br />Billions of deceased migrants all over the World lay distant from their Homeland shore. <br /> <br />The bracken face of Clara Hill in fancy I only can see <br />And the fields of Claraghatlea by Claramore I keep as a fond memory <br />But the years have left me feeling tired to the father of time I do bow <br />And the past to forever has gone we live in the here and the now. <br /> <br />The song of the dipper in the stream grows fainter in my thoughts by the day <br />And I struggle for to visualize the fields in their wildflowers of May <br />And what of my friends of the past the years on them are taking toll <br />Old age it does come to us all things natural we cannot control. <br /> <br />I do hope for a peaceful end from life a quick painless release <br />But it may not be by Cashman's Hill that my remains will rest in peace <br />The past from my life it has gone though in fancy to it I do cling <br />And often when I visualize in my thoughts the robin does sing.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/may-not-be-by-cashman-s-hill/
