The lark upwards fly from the rushes to sing in the gray morning sky <br />And gray crow disliked by sheep farmers caws on a lone poplar nearby <br />And spring has brought all of her green beauty to Claraghatlea west of Millstreet <br />To the old rushy fields by the railway the quiet place where the rivers meet. <br /> <br />Where the Cails flows into the Finnow and into a bigger river grow <br />And journey through Dooneen and Drishane and into the Blackwater flow <br />Amongst the water reeds the moorhen on her nest is sitting quite safe in her shady retreat <br />And in the rank grass the pheasant is crowing in field by where the rivers meet. <br /> <br />In leafy groves and on the green hedgerows that border fields by Millstreet Town <br />The songbirds are whistling and singing at twilight as the sun goes down <br />And vixen for her cubs out hunting 'a young rabbit would be nice to eat' <br />And darkness it slowly envelopes the fields by where the rivers meet. <br /> <br />The spring she has come to Duhallow and everywhere looking so green <br />And snowdrops and primroses blooming on the verges along the bohreen <br />And cow to her new born calf lowing he totters on unsteady feet <br />Amongst the rank grass and the rushes in field by where the rivers meet.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/where-the-rivers-meet/
