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Can Spring Be Far Behind?


(© Author & Poet Tom Ryan.)

Under the far and flickering stars
On this bright and lovely night of Spring
In that children’s place of memories
By the river down the Mall .
Tell me it isn’t beautiful.

That place where street lights magically
Trace their pale and orange shimmering shapes
On the ever flowing river
Serenading each life’s journey.
Tell me it isn’t beautiful,

In secret silence swans
From out the mysterious mist of night,
Play with the lighted patterns on the water.
Buds on bare boughs breast the air.
On grassy banks crisp frost appears.
Oh tell me it isn’t beautiful.

And in those hours when magic fails,
And worldliness can faith assail,
I then envision swans of Spring.
Solemn and splendid hearkening
To the language of each living thing.
Oh, tell me it isn’t beautiful.

Tom Ryan, “Iona,” Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.


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