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I want to go to the heather hills,
To the heather hills and rocky shore.
I want to climb to Ben-Edar's heights,
And to smell the sea once more.
I want to talk by an Ulster hearth,
Where welcome ever a stranger finds,
I want to stand on a Connaught hill,
And sing to the four great winds.
I want to see on a Kerry moor
The purple turf smoke, coil, and soar,
I want to hear a soft Munster voice
That sings by a cottage door.
I want to go to the Leinster hills,
To the Dublin hills by the rocky shore.
I want to climb to Ben-Edar's heights—
I want to be home once more.

© Dora Sigerson Shorter