At eventide I go
Where soothing breezes blow:
High hedges are aglow
With perfumed eglantine.
Soft skies above are blue,
And greying clouds so few-
Dim hills of purple hue
Along the distant brine.

Fair fields of velvet green
Are to the skyline seen,
And homesteads all serene
'Mid clustering treetops hide
This fertile Laggan soil
Around the placid Foyle
Bears tribute to the toil
Its people here have plied.

Now rooks are on the wing,
Shy finches sweetly sing.
While children's voices ring
The leafy woodland through.

Great piles of burnished gold
Out in the West unfold:
A scene so very old-
And yet forever new.

The cows are wending home…
Lone lovers meet and roan…
Pale stars peep through the dome…
And drips the nightly dew.
Now bedward I am bound
Much treasure having found:
Such wealth of sight and sound-
Here bidding day adieu.

Peoples's Press

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