Sheila Dougal

Oh Ireland, I am your daughter
Generations removed but not the wonder
Drawn to your lore and mystery
I’ve dreamed of you across the sea.
 
I am a mut, a mix of kin
Grown up in Poor Town, Oregon
My father’s chin, red beard covered,
Reminds me of a special clover
 
I walked along a mossy path
In Oregon’s green wilderness
My broken heart longed for another
That’s when I saw God’s love in clover
 
Oh Ireland, your hills are green
Your son, Patrick, helped me believe
When once I saw that sign of love
I prayed, “Oh Lord, bless Ireland”
 
You love me, Lord
I saw that day
A sure sign
None can take away
 
For there amidst green hearts of clover
A blood red heart made me to wonder