Sunday Independent 18th March, 1922p8
The prize of half-a-guinea for the best poem this week to “Irish Verse,” is awarded to Liam P. Clancy for his “Hills of Clare.”
Och, drear and lone this London is,
And cold and bleak and bare,
And day and night I’m missing still
My own beloved Clare.
I miss the mountains hid in mist
When skies are dawning grey,
And, in the valleys shadow-kist,
The hush at heel o’day.
I miss the low wind’s lonesome croon
In the winter drear and long,
I miss the trill of the thrush’s tune,
The lilt of the blackbird’s song.
There’s grandeur here and wealth untold,
And mansions proud and fair,
I’d give them all – their gloss and gold –
For a hut on the hills o’Clare.
I miss the cross-road dances gay,
The laughter, light and loud and free
Och, here it’s lonesome, long’s the day,
Here is no place for me.
Then I’ll be going where my heart is set
‘Mid heath-blooms fresh and fair,
Where the gold-lights glow in the dawn dew-wet
On the gorse-gilt hills o’Clare.