Through the calm August day, with Our Lady’s blue sky far above them,
And beyond the grey mountains where slumbers the Irish green sea,
There they speak to her, weep while they pray to her, beg her to love them,
Till beyond the bright stars where their home and their treasure shall be.
ST. PATRICK’S TREASURE
By P. J. Carroll, C.S.C.
Called son by many lands,
Thou art a father unto one.
Of all these mothers claiming thee,
By honored titles naming thee,