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Francis Ledwidge - Ardan MórFrancis Ledwidge - Ardan Mór
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AS I was climbing Ardan Mór  From the shore of Sheelin lake,  I met the herons coming down  Before the water’s wake.    And they were talking in their flight          Of dreamy ways the herons go  When all the hills are withered up  Nor any waters flow.
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