Poem by Francis Ledwidge

Spring and Autumn

Green ripples singing down the corn,
With blossoms dumb the path I tread,
And in the music of the morn
One with wild roses on her head.

Now the green ripples turn to gold
And all the paths are loud with rain,
I with desire am growing old
And full of winter pain. 

1. Ceol Sidhe
2. After Court Martial
3. The Lost Ones
4. Thoughts at the Trysting Stile
5. The Little Children

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