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Epic of the Patron Saint,
St. Patrick
When Roman rule to shores of Briton reached,
One was born who changed the history
Of Christianity through word he preached.
This "Patricus" in fifteenth century
Caught by pagans, made to tend their sheep
While just a lad, a saint would one day be.
There came to him, this slave, as he did sleep,
A vision God would help him break away.
He fled and learned in God all faith to keep.
Back home a vision came he could not gainsay.
"Voice of the Irish" said to come
To live amongst them. This would be his pathway.
He studied and a bishop did become.
To Rome did not succumb; To Ireland turned
To live amidst the pagans with aplomb.
He spoke and many listened, and they learned.
A king he did convert. He had no fear.
His reputation grew and was well-earned.
Slavery he helped make disappear
Along with human sacrifice and warfare.
Converts to his teachings did adhere.
Love and power of prayer he did declare,
And he alone of women so well spoke.
He's now revered; his day is met with fanfare.
For all the wonders Patrick did invoke
(The driving out of snakes unlikely true),
A toast is given him by Irish folk.
Each seventeenth of March a big to-do,
The wearing of the shamrock, early mass,
Rivers dyed in green, processions too.
A day to raise to Paddy each our glass!
3/23/02
© 2002, Andrea Dietrich
"In Ireland, the plant most often referred to as shamrock is the white clover."
A world of wishes at your command, God and his angels close at hand, Friends and family, their love impart, And Irish blessings in your heart!
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