Ivy of Ireland in my garden grows 
Beside the foxglove that the wild bee knows, 
More dear to me than lavender or rose. 

Gray moths about it flit, and gold wasps hum: 
The bees salute it softly as they come: 
The east wind loiters by it, and is dumb — 

Or whispers very lightly of green rings, 
And hollow raths, and fairy-peopled springs, 
And buried days when Boholaun had wings: 

And rode amid the unforgotten Shee. 
Or the west wind comes, laughing, from the sea, 
And tells the youngest leaves of days to be, 

When Eri's grievous wound is healed, and she 
Shall lift her gracious head, and, smiling, see 
Her children coming crowned about her knee. 

Ivy of Ireland, is the promise clear? 
You climb towards the light 'twixt hope and fear. 
But would to God the day we wait were here! 

Elizabeth Ann
Said to her Nan:
"Please will you tell me how God began?
Somebody must have made Him. So
Who could it be, 'cos I want to know?"
And Nurse said, "Well!"
And Ann said, "Well?
I know you know, and I wish you'd tell."
And Nurse took pins from her mouth, and said,
"Now then, darling, it's time for bed."

Elizabeth Ann
Had a wonderful plan:
She would run round the world till she found a man
Who knew exactly how God began.
She got up early, she dressed, and ran
Trying to find an Important Man.
She ran to London and knocked at the door
Of the Lord High Doodelum's coach-and-four.
"Please, sir (if there's anyone in),
However-and-ever did God begin?"

The Lord High Doodelum lay in bed,
But out of the window, large and red,
Came the Lord High Coachman's face instead.
And the Lord High Coachman laughed and said:
"Well, what put that in your quaint little head?"

Elizabeth Ann went home again
And took from the ottoman Jennifer Jane.
"Jenniferjane," said Elizabeth Ann,
"Tell me at once how God began."
And Jane, who didn't much care for speaking,
Replied in her usual way by squeaking.

What did it mean? Well, to be quite candid,
I don't know, but Elizabeth Ann did.
Elizabeth Ann said softly, "Oh!
Thank you, Jennifer. Now I know."