The swallows fly above the old fields all day <br />And the birds nest and sing in the woods far away <br />But I won't be there when the Spring is in bloom <br />And the valley is fragrant with Nature's perfume. <br /> <br />In the tall reeds of the river pool the wary moorhen cry <br />To warn her chicks of danger nearby <br />And three tiny dark chicks in cover disappear <br />They've learned from mother her call which warn them to fear <br /> <br />Human kind and predators and of them to stay clear <br />And hide themselves if predators they see or if footsteps they hear <br />In the wilds of Nature the fittest survive <br />And only the wariest does stay alive. <br /> <br />And I won't be there when Nature's wild-flowers <br />Bloom in the lush fields in the mild April showers <br />And bluebells and primroses on the ditch by the bohreen <br />I do often recall the great beauty I've seen. <br /> <br />And I won't be there for to welcome the Spring <br />And in the leafy grove hear the male robin sing <br />But white blossoms do bloom on the hawthorn tree <br />And life in the old parish goes on without me.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-won-t-be-there-4/
