IN EXILE

IN EXILE

This London sky is dull and grey;

A storm of sleet and rain

Is beating dismally to-day

Upon my window pane.

On wings of fancy let me stray

To summer shores again.

Once more the fresh Atlantic breeze

Its friendly greeting cries;

Afar across the azure seas

The cliffs of Achill rise

And cloudlands countless pageantries

Sweep thro’ the sunlit skies.

The distance fills with misty hills,

Alternate gleam and gloom;

I see again the purple plain

Bestarred with golden broom,

So when along the Achill Sound

The Summer sunset gleams,

And when the heather bells are found,

Beside the mountain streams,

I’ll seek thy shore and live once more,

Oh island of my dreams!

French, Percy. (1980) ‘Prose, Poems & Parodies.’  Dublin, Helicon Limited