THOUGHTS ON ST. PATRICK'S DAY.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 248, 21 March 1888, Page 5

THOUGHTS ON ST. PATRICK'S DAY.

What heart that bears the faintest trace Oi Celtic blood will not to day Throb last, as mingled thoughts apaco Burst into life, and float away Over the broad Pacific's breast On pinions fair of patriot's love, E'en lo that isle where sorrows rest On every moiintalp, lako and grove? Yea, sadly we walk in spirit there, And view iho waste that wrongs have made. The peaceiul hearth, ihe homestead fair, Glooniv, foilorn 'neath want's dark shade; And wildly do our bosoms heave, As sighs escape those lips too proud To breathe complaint, } ct needs must grieVCU To sec their kin in sorrow bowed. All, Erin ! every soul that bears One chord o( feclinK— human, kind— Must sorrow in thy long-borne cares, And yearn to burst the chains that bind Thy cankered limbs, and set thee fre« To soar unto thy destined height, Where all thy glorious chivalry May flash again its brilliant light. 'Fore prejudice, so coldly stern, And show thee clearli/ as thou art, Bearing the biitor wrongs that burn Into the fibres of thy heartLike heaven-born martyrs at the stake Enveloped by proud bigots' fire— With fortitude, which must awake Hate's praise, and force her to admire! But dash dire sorrow's thoughts away ! Let's pass its bitter, cold cup by ; We'll join the pageant rites to-day And drink full measures of thy ioy. To honour due that saintly soul, Who trod thy shore in pagan night, And bade its sombre darkness roll Back from the rays of heavenly light, And placed within each feeble hand A weapon, mightier than the sword. Which we may wield for fatherland, And faith, till vanquished right's restored. For lips that ne'er in vain have breathed, " Ask and ye shall receive" have said; Po shall we see Hope's gems unwreathed With brighter radiance round thy head.. For, 10, the day is dawning now With promised glory in the east. And Peace ere long shall grace thy brow. And Plenty crown thy patron's feast, And Right, for which thy heroes bold Have yielded life to win for thee, Shall guild thy sky like burnished gold And flash abroad from sea to sea ! Then, may God bless thy em'rald shore* And keep thy faith unsullied still ; That, when the power of might is o'er. Thy truth may virtue's pages fill ! And may thy patron saint still guard From chains and evil sorcery Thoso heroes of thy virtuous sword Who yield life, freedom, all for thee t Clara M. Lorrigan. Hobson-street, Auckland.