I may live far south of Hibernia's shore <br />And of the old high fields of green Claramore <br />But in my flights of fancy i hear the birds sing <br />On their nesting time in the prime of the Spring. <br /> <br />Above the rank rushes the little brown lark does fly <br />For to welcome the dawn to the brightening sky <br />For as long as we live old memories with us remain <br />And in fancy we often go back home again. <br /> <br />Old Clara was wearing his white hat of snow <br />When i left Duhallow two decades ago <br />The school children back then the parents of today <br />How quickly the time on our lives tick away. <br /> <br />The changes are happening in Millstreet I'm told <br />And those i grew up with like me getting old <br />The clock on our lives it is ticking on fast <br />And in memory we only can cling to the past. <br /> <br />A long way from Claragahatlea and Millstreet Town <br />From where Clara the old mountain ever looks down <br />But i bet most of the old fields i once knew by name <br />Despite the passing of time would still look the same <br /> <br />As the old fields i knew when i was a boy <br />Remembering the past is a thing i enjoy <br />A new generation in Millstreet today <br />And those i grew up with showing their years in gray.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/remembering-the-past-4/
