Legacy Poem by Paul Larmour

i found a silent field one day
out on a stony hillside wild
there by a shinning stream i did lay
and contemplated on natures child

bordered by stone walls and thorn
boxing in some sleepy sheep
and covered in the moss that mourns
that runs and bounds and skips a leap

at the corner on the highest ground
just behind some protective pines
a crumbling ruin can be found
a sign of treacherous times

creeping westard through the green
with vanilla scented lips
bony stemmed and needles keen
mountain gorse slowly trips

ancient drills dash down the decline
their valleys dressed in irish green
row and row in perfect line
run sorrowfully down to a stream

i close my eyes and think of when
the black sack covered stooping back
with feverish hands did rake and tend
the unseen potatoes blighted black

oh rain washed and beaten bare
natures child holds a story
an irish land in english care
irish pain and english glory