Irish He Is
A strange blend of shyness, of pride and conceit,
And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat
He’s spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
... Yet the smile of a child fills his soul with delight.
His eyes are the quickest to well up in tears,
Yet his strength is the strongest to banish your fears.
His hate is as fierce as his devotion is grand,
And there is no middle ground on which he will stand.
He’s wild and he’s gentle, he’s good and he’s bad.
He’s proud and he’s humble, he’s happy and sad.
He’s in love with the ocean, the earth and the skies,
He’s enamoured with beauty wherever it lies.
He’s victor and victim, a star and a clod,
But mostly he’s Irish... in love with his God.
I just read this poem and it made me think of my brother. I'd love to know the origin of the poem but couldn't find an author on the internet. If anyone knows who wrote it, please, leave a comment.
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