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!

Prose, Poems & Parodies of Percy French, 1980, Helicon Limited, Dublin.