THE silence of maternal hills
Is round me in my evening dreams;
And round me music-making rills
And mingling waves of pastoral streams.
Whatever way I turn I find
The path is old unto me still.
The hills of home are in my mind,
And there I wander as I will.
In France
Francis Ledwidge
(1)
Poem topics: home, music, silence, evening, mind, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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