The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1901-05-11
FROM IRELAND
win My 'seul rass rhresgh arslsnar

lowing beautiful poem were written
some years ago by Dennis O'Sulltvan,'
Of New York. The other stanzas at
tached, which form dialogue between
the priest and the old woman who is
dying, are full of harmless wit, and
are in no way intended to be profane
or disrespectful to the holy ministry Of
the priesthood; on the contrary, they
contain moral that will be perceived
by the thoughtful reader.]
80 soggarth aroon! sure I know life is
fieeting;
Soon, soon in the strange earth my
poor bones will 'lie;
I have said my last prayer and re
ceived my last blessing,
And if the Lords willing, I'm ready
to die.
But, soggarth aroon, can I'never again
The valleys and hills Of my dear
native land?
When my soul takes its flight from
this dark world Of sorrow,
Will it pass through old Ireland to
Join the blest band?
go soggarth aroon! sure know that in
heaven
THE loved ones :are waiting and
watching for me,
And the Lord knows how anxious am
ttoibe with them,
In those realms Of joy, mid souls
pure and free;
Yet, soggarth, j pray, ere you leave
me forever,
Relieve the last doubt Of poor 6y-
ing soul,
Whose hope, next to God, lis to know
that when leaving
twill pass through old Ireland on
the way to it's goal
SO soggarth aroon! have kept
through all changes
The thrice blessed shamrock to lay
DER my clay;
And oh! it has minded me, often and
often,
OF that bright, smiling valley so far,
far away;
Then tell me, pray you. will ever
again see
The place where it grew on my own
native sod?
When my body lies cold in the land of
the stranger,
Will my soul pass through Erin on
it's way to our God?
s'Arrah! bless you, my child, sure I
thought it was heaven
You wanted to go to the moment
you died;
And such is the place on the ticket I'm
giving,
But a coupon for ireland I'll stick
to its side:
Your soul shall be free as the wind
DER the prairies,
And I'll land you at Cork, on the
banks of the Lee;
And two little angels I'll give you, like
fairies,
To guide you all right over mountain
and lea"
: "Arrah, soggarth aroon! can't you do
any better?
know that my feelings may peril
your grace;
But if you allowed me voice in the
matter,
won't make a landing in any such
place,
The spot that I long for is sweet
county Derry;
Among its fair people I was born
and bred;
The Corkies never much fancied
while living,
And I don't want to visit them after
I'm dead.
"Let me fly to the hills, where my soul
can make merry,
In the North, where the shamrock
y more plentiful grows
In the counties of Cavan, Fermanagh
and Derry
I'll linger till called to better re-
pose,
And the angels you give me will find
it inviting
Tovisit the shrines of the Island OF
Saints;
If they bring from st. Patrick small
bit Of writing,
They'll never have reason for any
complaints"
"a soul, my dear child, that has pin
ions upon it,
Need not be confined to province
so small;
Through Ulster and Munster and Lem
ster and Connaught,
In less than a. jiffy you're over it all.
Then visit sweet Cork, where your sog-
garth was born;
No doubt many new things have
come into vogue
But one thing you'll find-that both
night, noon and morn,
As for centuries back, there's no
schange in the brogue."