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Shamrocks carpeting the forest floor
The Trinity holding us underneath
Foxgloves stand like Church bells
Ringing out the beauty God bequeathed
Fuschia scarlet, along the hedgerows
Line my trail in redemption's blood
The Atlantic wide and deep and far
Like Christ's love and not the flood
There’s a rock in all my panoramas
Whatever the tides shift, it stays
Above the white fear of winter waves
And in the sabbath calm of summer days.
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