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New Zealand Tablet, 6 November 1919, Page 13

Atf IRISH ‘ HEART-THROB. [lrishmen in . general, and especially those who claim the 1 beautiful county of Wicklow for their birthplace, will be interested in the following poem, composed undoubtedly by a native ■;son,; whose mellifluous i lines ■ breathe ■, a heartfelt .patriotism. The ; poem was found ,by a reader of an American paper, who, while, searching in an old trunk, came upon a letter written over, 20 years ago. The poem formed part of the letter, ( which was written by a young student to his brother. It possesses a charm and rhythm which deserve a better fate than oblivion, so we give it here.] The Wicklow Vales. s ? Oh! brightly beams the summer sun - On fair lands far away, A garb of green the valleys wear Where silvery streamlets stray But boyhood’s home I’ll ne’er forget, Though dark my fate may be, - * - Where’er I roam, my Irish home— The Wicklow vales for me! There’s music in the leafy woods • And ’mid the rocky hills; The rolling stones that follow fast, The leaping, rippling rills, And sunshine dances round the door, As midday, wild with glee, And proudly stand the mountains grand, The Wicklow vales for me ! Amidst these hills the steel was heard, And Music’s martial strain, . When patriots sought to make our Isle A nation once again. The outlaw bold, the eagle jvild, On mountain’s brow was free, Oh, Freedom’s home, where’er I roam, The Wicklow vales for me ! Oh! sorrows fall like mountain shades O’er brightest scenes of earth, Yet hope remains amid these plains To hail the morrow’s birth! And gladly glides the winter’s night ’Mid scenes of mirth and glee, Where’er I roam, my mountain home, The Wicklow vales for me! Let others boast of happy hours In fair lands far away, My love for thee shall never.fade. Where’er my footsteps stray. Dear Wicklow ! Home of loving hearts ! My mountain nurse! Machree ! No vales can e’er with thine compare, The Wicklow' vales for me! —West Side Home News, New York,