  Under the sweep of a fell the smoke-reek curls and drifts Where a white-walled cottage stands nestling amid the green; Kerry skies above arched with their azure rifts Where a glint of sun peeps through to brighten the peaceful scene. Cattle stand at graze, and there are the piles of peat, And there is the swift Feale Water rimpling, dimpling away; And there are the cocks of hay, and the smell of the hay is sweet, And this is the round and sum of a quiet Kerry day! |
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