Wet Brolly

Adown the valley dripped a stream,
  White lilies drooped on either side;
Our hearts, in spite of us, will dream
  In such a place at eventide.

And where the stream, in wayward whirls,
  Went winding in and winding out,
Lay shells, that wore the look of pearls...

a poem in part by
 
Father Abram Ryan