Celtic Cross Poem by John F. McCullagh
Celtic Cross
</>In the hills above Strabane
in a little churchyard there
stands a Celtic cross of stone
That marks my father's parents' grave.
The Day is raw, a spit of rain
The wind sweeps low across the plot
In time their names will disappear.
The forces of nature serve to blot.
Still the Celtic cross endures
long after the inscription fades,
to be a sign of what they were,
when of their names, no trace remains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/19/2024 12:05:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
