Fuchsia Hedges In Connacht

I THINK some saint of Eirinn wandering far Found you and brought you here Demoiselles! For so I greet you in this alien air! And like those maidens who were only known In their own land as daughters of the King, Children of Charlemagne You have, by following that pilgrim-saint, Become high vot’resses You have made your palace beauty dedicate, And your pomp serviceable: You stand beside our folds! I think you came from some old Roman land Most alien, but most Catholic are you: Your purple is the purple that enfolds, In Passion Week, the Shrine, Your scarlet is the scarlet of the wounds: You bring before our walls, before our doors Lamps of the Sanctuary; And in this stony place The time the robin sings, Through your bells rings the Angelus!