Dora Sigerson Shorter,
A Bird from the West
(1907)
“ At the grey dawn, amongst the falling leaves, A little bird outside my window swung, High on a topmost branch he trilled his song, And “Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!” ever sung. “Take me,” I cried, “back to my island home; Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings”; For my lone spirit wide his pinions spread, And “Home” and “Home” and “Home” he ever sings. ”
