....................Mama

Irish in her soul is she . . .
..........(. . . half, that is, with good witch pow'r.)
Netherlander wise and proud . . .
..........(. . . half, that is, her natal dow'r.)

Brightly laughing at the wind,
Thunder, lightning . . . next of kin.
Gardens blossom with her care,
Fragrant roses, maidenhair.
..........Rich brocade and polished wood,
..........Formal dining understood.
..........Linen fine and silver spoon,
..........Tea-time in the afternoon.

Green becomes her, green of jade,
Green of Ireland's hidden glade.
Wisps and willows, mist and fog . . .
Longs to walk near Irish bog.
..........Born to laugh and taught to cry.
..........Follow rules . . . though wonder why.
..........Follow rules . . . yet daring she,
..........First to flaunt adversity.

Irish love and Holland heart . . .
..........(. . . chose to meld, choose to be . . . )
Richer from the strength of each . . . 
..........(. . . soul made whole . . . in harmony).
 

Phyllis Bailey Chisholm
1987


6 February 2001
(c) Grey Chisholm 2001