The Willow Girl
Of nature’s majesty, she is blessed,
A single grace amongst the rest,
The willow girl, I have seen,
By the river of her dreams.
A heart aglow with liberty,
And yet her soul cannot be free,
Roots in earth, fastened, grow,
Held in toil from below.
She frees her leaves in venture’s river.
To lands beyond, it may deliver,
As boughs hang low to touch the waters,
That onward rush to distant quarters.
They flow so fast, so gay and free,
To run away, to her reverie,
The currents fast beyond her reach,
That wind-swept wild, Donegal beach!