Perhaps I Will Never More See Clara

Perhaps i will never more see Clara cloaked in fogs of rain
Or walk in the old fields of Claraghatlea again
Or in the gathering gloam hear the lowing of  a cow
On a calm evening in Spring in a field by the River Finnow

The  past may be gone but my thoughts often stray
To places i love by old hills far away
Where i grew to love Nature when i was a boy
And learning of her ways i still do enjoy

Where i often daydreamed i might be a poet
A person well worthy of literary note
But daydreams are just that and seldom come true
And i receive from life what is only my due

Most of the mentors of my young years in eternal rest lay
Their fate will be mine in not too distant day
I learned so much from them when i was young
Their praises in rhyme i so often have sung

Though i've penned rhymes of the  places  in my travels i see
A Claraghatlea fellow is all i can be
A mile in the old scale west of Millstreet Town
Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown

The  now is all that matters as some like to say
Those who look at life in a philosophical way
And i live in the now far south of the Claramore rill
Flowing through Claraghatlea with a tongue never still.