Poem by Alice Guerin Crist

November in Ireland

November days in Ireland
 The skies are dull and grey,
But Oh! The clear strong flame of love,
 That burns by night and day.
As swift and bright the whispered prayers fly to the Heavens O'erhead,
From faithful hearts in Ireland, remembering their dead.

No primroses or cowslips now,
 But cold November rain,
No hawthorns in the hedges,
 Till Spring comes round again,
But roses bloom in chapels lone and cabins far apart
Dear rosaries of remembrance said to Mary's loving heart.

"For all the Holy Souls we pray,
 God give them peace and light
For the brave boys that died for us,
 We pray both day and night.
We can feel their presence near us-we can hear their voices call,
For the dead folk in Ireland are the 'livest' of us all"

November days in Ireland
 Are just one round of prayer,
Of loving help, and sacrifice,
 For those who claim our care.
And Oh! Look up with hope to Heaven: the starry, shining dome,
Is vibrant with the beating wings of glad souls going home.

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