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Erin Shore 🇮🇪

She stays on the dock with St. Peter’s dream Marching for Jews and for Italian fear Long away the Constitution That heard her faint in fear There is the other, the void unfrozen and alone All things aseen to the first Major rise And leading his horses on Why to make trouble for this new grow of men In solace and lonely she gets by Appeasing the woman to see her redemption It is August and no more unmooned To feather this witness and to borrow untuned Seeing ladder after sun and good feel With a rising touch deep, she is magic and listen For the Lord to have learned of her keep

A mayhem of good and a simple attraction The servant was errant but good In stride growing freely And to Andrew her son, This is solemn and offering true And often supposing, the web of St. Winter The ‘greements of Nathan in verse A spirit of water, and to make way amend A castle for glory, for tune If I miss a second, her year will be unmine At Providence and peaceful re-une To currents in the water And lilies redoubt There is prayer for these soles at the heath And maybe Len Erin will run to the forest Thinking hours and women, and wreath