 | Bog-land Studies |  |
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But that instant he stepped round the end o' the turf-stack fornint the boreen,Wid a scarlet to aquil the poppies ablaze on his bit o' coateen,
And his belts and his straps and his buckles as white an' as bright as could shine—
Whin a dragon-fly sits on the slant o' the sun he looks somethin' as fine—
Till he seemed to be lightin' a dazzle an' glitter each step that he stirred;
And his little red cap set a-top wid a cock, like the crest of a bird,
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And himself was just Felix Magrath comin' home to his father's on leave.
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