William Butler Yeats
From Britain’s shores he came in chains,
Landed and sold against his will.
Sold to a lord he did his work,
He kept his sheep upon a hill.
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep,
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep.
The life was hard, the work was long,
Day after day, Patrick came,
He knelt in prayer to rend his soul,
To a God who called his name.
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep,
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep.
Freed from his chains Patrick sailed,
And bound himself to God above,
But he returned to Ireland fair,
He could not leave the land he loved.
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep,
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep.
Now a modern nation stands,
Set in a salty sea of blue,
And with their hearts and with their souls,
Four million people look to you.
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep,
Patrick, Patrick, Feed my sheep, Feed my sheep.
© Sarah Jones, 17th March 2006
I love the Yeats quote, although I'm not Irish. It fits well with my concept of myself using Henry James's words, "I have the imagination of disaster."
ReplyDeleteElizabeth, Happy St. Patrick's Day to you and all who visit here.
Don't worry about not being Irish, Mimi. Remember, Patrick wasn't Irish either. Like St. Alban, St Paul & St. Peter, King Solomon, The BVM, Mary Magdalene and God herself, Patrick was English!
ReplyDeleteI have this great green tee shirt, "God have mercy on me, I married an Irish woman!"
ReplyDeleteFWIW
jimB