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Song of Saint Patrick - part 4 - Matriculation

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Below is the poem entitled Song of Saint Patrick - part 4 - Matriculation which was written by poet Ian Thomas Phillips. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Song of Saint Patrick - part 4 - Matriculation

IV
Matriculation

Back to home, Patrick did go,
	For in his heart he knew
		It was time to study with the church,
	That this he had to do.
			He told his parents when he got home
				That he must go to France
					And with great strength, he again departed,
				Tears filling this last glance.

Patrick studied his Latin
	And the dogma in Lorraine
		And in his learning of the scripture, 
	He did not have to strain,
			His past with his present learning
				Melded with great coordination
					And before year 428,
				Hehad earned his ordination.

Patrick journeyed back to home,
	His familiy held a feast
		To celebrate his return
	And his becoming a priest-
			He followed in the footsteps
				Of his father and grandpa,
					Patrick measured up an equal
				To the hope, in him, they saw.

One late summer evening, 
	Patrick had this dream:
		Near the Woods of Foccult
	Within a mist shrouding a stream
			Came the voice of the Irish people
				-Together something tremendous-
					Asking him to return there,
				To, "Come and walk among us!"

Patrick became aware
	That in order to play his part
		That God had assigned to him,
	He would have to depart
			Forever from his homeland
				So as to proselytize
					The heathen Irish pagans,
				Though sorrow filled his eyes.


He knew there would be no return,
	He would not see home again
		Or sit among his family
	In their home upon the fenn,
			But this was understood by all,
				His parents exuded joy
					About this wonderful mission--
				They were proud of their boy. 

So, for the last time from Britain
	Patrick traveled North on foot
		To find where he was needed,
	Where he was to be put.
			This time, his journey was as if
				He had never seen
					The beauty of the glenns and hollocks
				Of the richest, deepest green.

Patrick journeyed long and far
	Making camp in the twilight
		And as the distance grew
	He knew that he was right,
			"To help my fellow man 
				Is why, from home, I've gone."
					And every day, his camp was broke
				Before the light of dawn.

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