156 MORE POT-POURRI 



should plant two in its stead. Everybody who has a 

 little plot of land should never fail every autumn to plant 

 some acorns, beech-nuts, chestnuts, etc. Many trees will 

 also strike from cuttings in spring, notably all the Willow 

 tribe, which grow the moment they are stuck into the 

 ground. If I were a young Irishman I should delight 

 in thus renewing the woods and copses of my country. 

 We know how the Irish love the soil, and the feeling is 

 not badly expressed in this little poem, which I copied 

 from an English newspaper: 



Often I wish that I might be, 



In this divinest weather, 

 Among my father's fields ah me ! 



And he and I together. 



Below the mountains, fair and dim, 



My father's fields are spreading : 

 I'd rather tread the sward with him 



Than dance at any wedding. 



Oh, green and fresh your English sod, 



With daisies sprinkled over, 

 But greener far were the fields I trod 

 That foamed with Irish clover. 



Oh, well your skylark cleaves the blue 



To bid the sun good-morrow ! 

 'Tis not the bonny song I knew 



Above an Irish furrow. 



And often, often, I'm longing still, 



In this all-golden weather, 

 For my father's face by an Irish hill, 



And he and I together. 



One of the most beautiful colour-effects I saw in 

 Ireland was a small lake planted with great clumps of 

 Dog-wood, with its crimson branches beside the bright 

 yellow of the Golden Willow. 



