Thank you to Timmy Cashin, who kindly let us reproduce this poem by his uncle, John D. Cashin. The poem is taken from a booklet of poems called ‘Fancies’. The poet emigrated to the united states at the turn of the last century. The poem below where he recalls his youth in Newmarket is particularly poignant.

 

Am I Still Remembered There?

‘Tis a bright September morning and Dame Nature looks serene,

The dew is on the hillsides and in pasture fields of green,

The gay meadow lark has risen and his sweetness fills the air,

Can I hope my memory lingers; am I still remembered there?

 

When the boys and girls together in the meadows tossed the hay,

Where the linnets and the thrushes tuned in chorus all the day,

And when working hours were over, how the youngsters used repair

To the “Cross Road” fun and capers; am I still remembered there?

 

With the boys of native village, does my memory linger still,

With the “Colleens” on a Sunday, at the “meet” beside the mill,

With the “Emmet Curran” football, at the “sports” or “country fair,”

Is this exile now forgotten; am I still remembered there?

 

Where old Sol’s bright beams are sinking in the crimson of the west,

And a calm and peaceful silence o’er the woods and valleys rest,

Then the songbirds cease their warbling and it’s quietness everywhere,

Tell me, Oh tell me truly, am I long forgotten there?

 

Heaven bless you, dear old homestead, where the hearts were fond and true,

Where life’s golden morning vanished, ‘on the banks of the Dalua,

Where my young heart beat with rapture ere my brow was seamed with care,

Is my name e’en now a memory, am I quite forgotten there?

 

Heart of mine you’re tired of roaming and you sigh for long ago,

How you still long for the old times and the joys you used to know,

But there are countless leagues between you and the “Island” Bright and fair,

Ah! poor heart! You’d break with grieving, if you were forgotten there.

 

OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA, September, 1905