Divena Collins

Celts Of Erin....Irish Sonnet

Green are the valleys of the celtic lore
Beneath the hills where soft waters flow.
Touched by the waters of natures floor
That ripples`gently to the valley below
Where wild thyme within pastures grow
The pride of celts still remain steadfast
And onwards forever true loyalties show
Staunch within rights that warriors cast
That shall mould the future from the past
Their emerald isles shall forever be free
For the pride of old Erin shall ever outlast
Protected by waves of the wild irish sea
Thro' history told their is no guarantee For fierce the cries of an irish banshee.



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