IRISH POEMS - WHEN I came back to Ireland the leaves on the tree, The birds on the branches would keep reminding me, With, dont you remember P and could you forget Till Im living and walking in the old times yet. The wind from the mountains it blows fresh and strong Ah, dont you remember is still the winds song. With, dont you remember and could you forget 1 As I went out a-walking twas the dead that I met. Theres a road runs to Wicklow it goes past the door. The dust of its holy for feet it once bore. Theyve all travelled Westward where the sun doesnt set. Ah, dont you remember and could you forget The blackbird hes mocking from the apple-bough Sure why would you trouble to be coming now When them that sore missed you is past fear and fret P Ah, dont you remember and could you forget Theres not a flower in Ireland, there isnt a hill, Nor yet a breath of the Four Winds but keeps reminding still, Till my poor heart is troubled and my eyes are wet For dont you remembtr and could you foget Rudolph Mary John ORiordan THE Kings have brought Him ambergris, The Babe, whose one delight it is To creep and nest In the warm snows of Mothers breast. The Kings have brought Him frankincense, Who hath no need, this Innocence, Of aught beside His Mothers milk in a full tide. Oer Mothers breast His fingers go, Constraining that sweet stream to flow, So soft and small, To whom that milky world is all. The Kings have brought Him gold and myrrh, This new-born thing whose Heavens in her To make His bed - In the sweet place from which He fed. Myrrh, spikenard, such precious things, The Kings have brought the King of Kings, Who, dronken-deep, Falls like a full-fed lamb asleep. --This text refers to the Paperback edition.