Enchanting Ireland

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Cliffs of Moher
His shouting days with mirth were crowned;
And still I dream he treads the lawn,
Walking ghostly in the dew,
Pierced by my glad singing through,
My songs of old earth’s dreamy youth:
But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou!
For fair are poppies on the brow:
Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.
              — W.B. Yeats
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Blustery day
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The Dubhlinn Gardens right outside of Dublin Castle

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