141st Virtual Poetry Circle

Welcome to the 141st Virtual Poetry Circle!

Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.

Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.

Also, sign up for the 2012 Fearless Poetry Reading Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Please visit the stops on the National Poetry Month Blog Tour from April 2011 and beginning again in April 2012.

Today’s poems is from Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna:

St. Patrick's Day: With an Irish Shamrock

From the region of zephyrs, the Emerald isle,
     The land of thy birth, in my freshness I come,
To waken this long-cherished morn with a smile,
     And breathe o’er thy spirit the whispers of home.
O welcome the stranger from Erin’s green sod;
  I sprang where the bones of thy fathers repose,
I grew where thy free step in infancy trod,
  Ere the world threw around thee its wiles and its woes.
         But sprightlier themes
         Enliven the dreams,
My dew-dropping leaflets unfold to impart:
         To loftiest emotion
         Of patriot devotion,
I wake the full chord of an Irishman’s heart.

The rose is expanding her petals of pride,
     And points to the laurels o’erarching her tree;
And the hardy Bur-thistle stands rooted beside,
     And sternly demands;—Who dare meddle wi’ me?
And bright are the garlands they jointly display,
     In death-fields of victory gallantly got;
But let the fair sisters their trophies array,
     And show us the wreath where the shamrock is not!
             By sea and by land,
             With bullet and brand,
My sons have directed the stormbolt of war;
             The banners ye boast,
             Ne’er waved o’er our host,
Unfanned by the accents of Erin-go-bragh!

Erin mavourneen! dark is thy night;
     Deep thy forebodings and gloomy thy fears;
And O, there are bosoms with savage delight
     Who laugh at thy plainings and scoff at thy tears!
But, Erin mavourneen, bright are the names
     Who twine with the heart-vein thy fate in their breast;
And scorned be the lot of the dastard, who shames
     To plant, as a trophy, this leaf on his crest!
             Thrice trebled disgrace
             His honours deface,
Who shrinks from proclaiming the isle of his birth!
             Though lowly its stem,
             This emerald gem
Mates with the proudest that shadow the earth!

What do you think?


  1. I love how you choose poems to fit the holidays. 🙂 This one is pretty interesting, but a little too much for me at times, with the ere’s and the thy’s.