In Fancy I Hear

The foothills of Clara from here far away
But in fancy I hear the lark at break of day
Above the heather and bracken carollng as he does fly
Before the sun shines in the gray morning sky
I never again may see the stony bohreen
Where on it's ditch in past Springs I often have seen
Primroses, bluebells and snowdrops blooming in the May
The beauty we knew as we age with us stay
For as long as the gift of memory we retain
We can go back in time to the old fields again
The man leaves the Home-place but the Home-place in him remain
And he hears the birds sing in the wind and the rain
Yet to ageless father time we eventually bow
And we only can live in the here and the now.