Irish Jesuit Province

A HomesteadAuthor(s): Deborah WebbSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 35, No. 405 (Mar., 1907), pp. 146-147Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20501107 .

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[ 146 J

A HOMESTEAD

FROM Waterville, where now we dwell, Our stalwart steed had travelled well, More Irish miles than I can tell.

The mountain road still upward wound, Bogland and boulder all around, And barren heights, with cloud-wreaths crowned.

But when the road turned downward steep, We saw the wild Atlantic leap, And lash the cliffs, and foams and sweep.

Descending slowly towards the west, We reached below a haven blest, St. Finian's Glen, our place of rest.

In Kerry sunshine's fitful gleam, That ocean valley was a dream, With its delightful mountain stream.

'Neath ferny coverts bounding free, It sang, and joined in harmony The mystic minors of the sea.

Beyond a silver-shining strand Rolled in translucent billows grand, We felt as though in fairyland.

Not so our worthy Mrs. Shea, She was no unsubstantial fay,

And all her life was work-a-day.

White-kerchiefed head, clear, kind eyes keep, Bare feet, skirt homespun, coarse but clean; In her domain she reigned a queen.

Her dwelling was no cabin small; Within was room enough for all, XVithout were pigsty, roost, and stall.

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TERRY I47

Her dairy was her special pride, She welcomed us her house inside, Brought milk, and would not be denied.

That kitchen had a homely air, A fire of fragrant turf bu: ned there, The dresser boasted gorg-eous ware.

Her husband came, with smiling face, Her boys and girls, a hardy race, Whose world was that secluded place.

A little friendly chat, and then We travellers took the road again, Ne'er to forget St. Finian's Glen.

DEBORAH WEBB. August, i906.

TERRY

SUNSHINE, be bountiful, pour out your gold for her; Thrushes, be cheery till daylight is done;

Crocus and daffodil, laugh through the mould for her; Terry this morning is ten years and one.

Angels, watch over her, make her way beautiful, Shield her from dangers that lurk for her harm,

Keep her a child that is loving and dutiful, Keep her a girl full of innocent charm.

All the world smiles to her, Terry smiles merrily, Facing the world with delight in her eyes;

Robins peep out at her, saying, " Why, verily Here is a birdie in girlish disguise "

So may she be as the years fly along to her, Brimming with happiness, sparkling with fun,

Greeting with gladness the friends that shall throng to her. Sweet as a child is at ninety and one.

J. W. A.

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