As I Went Up to Dunamore

As I went up to Dunamore along the river way
I heard the blackbirds fluting low
Among the osiers gray.

And they were tuning for themselves
In sweetly stumbling rhyme
Half-minded chords learned long ago
From harps of olden time.

–F.J.J. Malone


  1. Cousin? Ancestor? Coincidence?

  2. My grandfather, whose 101st birthday would have been yesterday.

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