St. Patrick's Day is an enchanted time - a day to begin transforming winter's dreams into summer's magic.
You've heard I suppose, long ago,
How the snakes, in a manner most antic,
He marched to the county Mayo,
And trundled them into th' Atlantic
If a man who cannot count finds a four-leaf clover, is he lucky?
~Stanislaw J. Lec
Anyone acquainted with Ireland knows that the morning of St. Patrick's Day consists of the night of the seventeenth of March flavored strongly with the morning of the eighteenth.
For each petal on the shamrock
This brings a wish your way -
Good health, good luck, and happiness
For today and every day.
May your blessings outnumber
The shamrocks that grow,
And may trouble avoid you
Wherever you go.
Oh, Paddy, dear, an' did ye hear the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground!
No more St. Patrick's Day we'll keep, his colour can't be seen,
For there's a cruel law agin' the Wearin' o' the green.
When law can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow,An' when the leaves in summer time their color dare not show,
Then I will change the color, too, I wear in my caubeen;
But till that day, plaise God, I'll stick to the Wearin' o' the Green.
May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.v
So, success attend St. Patrick's fist,
For he's a saint so clever;
Oh! he gave the snakes and toads a twist,
And bothered them forever!
Saint Patrick was a gentleman, who through strategy and stealthDrove all the snakes from Ireland, here's a drink to his health!
But not too many drinks, lest we lose ourselves and then
Forget the good Saint Patrick, and see them snakes again!
Never iron a four-leaf clover, because you don't want to press your luck.
Oh, the music in the air!
An' the joy that's ivrywhere -
Shure, the whole blue vault of heaven is wan grand triumphal arch,
An' the earth below is gay
Wid its tender green th'-day,
Fur the whole world is Irish on the Seventeenth o' March!
~Thomas Augustin Daly
When Irish eyes are smiling,
'Tis like a morn in spring.
With a lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
He was a terror to any snake that came in his path, whether it was the cold, slimy reptile sliding along the ground or the more dangerous snake that oppresses men through false teachings. And he drove the snakes out of the minds of men, snakes of superstition and brutality and cruelty.
Oh, while a man may dream awake,
On gentle Irish ground,
'Tis Paradise without the snake -
That's easy to be found.
For 'tis green, green, green, where the ruined towers are gray,
And it's green, green, green, all the happy night and day;
Green of leaf and green of sod, green of ivy on the wall,
And the blessed Irish shamrock with the fairest green of all.
~Mary Elizabeth Blake
O, the red rose may be fair,
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three
Takes the very heart of me!
If you're enough lucky to be Irish, you're lucky enough!
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas St Patrick himself, sure, that set it;
And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it.
It thrives through the bog, through the brake, and the mireland;
And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland...
And about her courts were seen
Liveried angels robed in green,
Wearing, by St Patrick’s bounty,
Emeralds big as half the county.
~Walter Savage Landor
The shamrock on an older shore
Sprang from a rich and sacred soil
Where saint and hero lived of yore,
And where their sons in sorrow toil.
~Maurice Francis Egen
A best friend is like a four leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.
What color should be seen
Where our fathers' homes have been
But their own immortal Green?
May luck be our companion
May friends stand by our side
May history remind us all
Of Ireland's faith and pride.
May God bless us with happiness
May love and faith abide.
May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light,
May good luck pursue you each morning and night.
Oh! St. Patrick was a gentleman
Who came of decent people;
He built a church in Dublin town,
And on it put a steeple.
Wandered from the Antrim hills,
Wandered from the Killalas rills,
Patrick heard upon the breeze
Voices from the Irish seas.
If you hold a four-leaf shamrock in your left hand at dawn on St. Patrick's Day you get what you want very much but haven't wished for.
With the frost he kindled fire;
Drove the snakes from brake and brier,
Hurling out the writhing brood
With the lightning of his rood.
There's ne'er a mile in Ireland's Isle where the dirty vermin musters;
Where'er he put his dear forefoot he murdered them in clusters.
The toads went hop, the frogs went flop, slapdash into the water,
And the beasts committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter.
~Old Irish Song
When after the Winter alarmin',
The Spring steps in so charmin',
So fresh and arch
In the middle of March,
Wid her hand St. Patrick's arm on...
~Alfred Percival Graves
The list of Irish saints is past counting; but in it all no other figure is so human, friendly, and lovable as St. Patrick - who was an Irishman only by adoption.
Leprechauns, castles, good luck and laughter
Lullabies, dreams, and love ever after.
Poems and songs with pipes and drums
A thousand welcomes when anyone comes.
An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass to keep from falling off the earth.
Many an opportunity is lost because a man is out looking for four-leaf clovers.