Erin McKeown

Unchill’d by the rain, and unwalked by the wind
The lily lies sleeping here winter’s cold hour
Till Spring’s light touch her fetters unbind
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower
This Erin, Oh Erin, thy winter is past
And the hope that lived through it shall blossom at last
A little bit of Thomas Moore
(I know what I’m doing)
To celebrate the presence of
Erin McKeown

© Wesley Stace