When the light was white from Tilley lamps <br />And the boat to Holyhead was overladen, <br />The postman was a sight for pure delight <br />As casually from his bag he took the letter- <br />A scrawl whose hand you instantly recall; <br /> The Queen herself stamped in the corner <br />Above the exile’s home address, silently <br />Overseeing the sadness of the sons of Erin.<br /><br />Matt Mooney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/across-the-irish-sea/
