Poems (Ford)/Saint Patrick's Day

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SAINT PATRICK'S DAY.
Away to the mist-shrouded tombs of the ages Have centuries rolled on the billows of Time,Since Patrick first shed o'er our beautiful island The light of Religion, serene and sublime; ​And since, though the whirlwinds of fierce persecution In fury around her unceasingly war,That pure light has been to our land through the tempest As is to the tossed bark a clear guiding-star.
Oh, proudly, indeed, may the children of Erin, Though scattered far from her on many a shore,All honor this day of the glorious apostle Who taught them the Father of all to adore;No martyr's blood crimsoned the sod in his pathway— He planted the Cross, and that emblem divineHas ever been honored by chieftain and peasant, And round it the shamrock forever shall twine.
And proudly and joyously Erin looks over The blue waves that carried her loved ones away;She sees, though far distant, they still fondly love her, And hopefully looks for a happier day—A day when her children shall shake off the vipers That soil the bright folds of her mantle of green,And laurels entwine with the dew-spangled shamrocks That wreathe the fair brow of our loved Ocean Queen.
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Oh, welcome, thrice welcome the morning whose dawning The exile's heart bears to his loved native land,That joins the brave hands and true hearts of our people— A noble, united and patriot band;Though darkly the storm-clouds may lower around her, The hopes of our Nation will never decayWhile her children, though scattered o'er ocean and mountain, Assemble to honor Saint Patrick's day.

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