Alchemisland

Rivers Slaney, Dargle and Vartry, throw a dart

One cannot fail to hit some place of great sanctity and grace

To live in such a dappled, wondrous place, its friendly denizens are grateful

Here the wilds show us what Ireland is capable of being, with a cape of green

A Goddess like a queen with a dress of leaves and climber tapers, at capers

With goat-legged satyrs, we must return to older ways, of glade and of glaive

Of grape and grain and of miracles and living Gods and their regular manifestation.