Vale of Avoca

To the land of my youth,
No region can compare,
To the peace of that valley,
And the abundance of fresh air.

Avoca, the vale, where rivers unite,
The Meetings, Moore he did write.
Wooden Bridge, Redmond did iterate,
While rivers passed in a slow-moving state.

Adorned with wooded hills and valley so green,
Where Miners Cross and Motto stone are seen,
Old mines are no more, all silent and still.
But the village yet has its old woolen mill.

A valley where race nor religion compete for gain,
Where kindness, good will, to stranger and local remain,
In tough times unite and every challenge they meet,
A nod, a handshake, or a smile to each other on the street.

The memories of Avoca are forever in my heart,
'Though now I live in exile, we are never far apart,
With the Internet and modern social media,
I stay rooted to my birthplace, back in Avoca.

Source: http://forums.familyfriendpoems.com/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=164871