DOWN THE STRAND.

On the buoy a cormorant,

Dipping. dipping easy.

Hark the wheeling curlews calling!

Mid mud and pebbles I pick cockles.

I've seen the rain come pelting down.

It turns the dry grass green.

There were robins, linnets and larks;

Gold finches, wrens and blackbirds.

The gentle breeze made the barley’s sheen.

The flowers of the field we could gather ---

Margarites, cornflowers, lady's tresses,

Wild daffodils, violets and primroses.

There among the corn blades

In and out in secret scattering,

Loud and harsh the corncrake’s cry,

Now alas no more

Horses and donkeys, jennets and mules,

Our only means of transport.

We could wander at will in the fir groves

And by Owenacurra's lapping waters,

Here where sea-pinks waved in the sand;

Down the strand in Ballinacurra,

As boats and ships still

Plough the sea.

Rose Lynch. 26^th June 2005

down the strand v3