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The scent of the sea in Erin's cool air
Captivates me and I wish I were there.

Such colors displayed in ivy that crawls
Weaving its way over ancient rock walls.

I recall my awe of every hue
The last time I bid sweet Erin adieu.

I felt embraced by Autumn's breezy arms
When deeply engaged by all of her charms.

Pipes that were played in a passing parade,
Impassioned mem'ries over hill and glade,

Help to remind me that once long ago
My ancestors lived, yet had to let go.

They journeyed across the turbulent sea
To reach a new land in home of the free.

I always rejoice in songs we still sing
When feelings return that fall colors bring.

 © Connie Marcum Wong

Note:
[1]Poets and nineteenth-century Irish nationalists used Erin in English as a romantic name for Ireland.[2] Often, "Erin's Isle" was used. In this context, along with Hibernia, Erin is the name given to the female personification of Ireland, but the name was rarely used as a given name, probably because no saints, queens, or literary figures were ever called Erin. [3]According to Irish mythology and folklore, the name was originally given to the island by the Milesians after the goddess Ériu.

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