Trias Thaumaturga: Patrons in Poetry: Saint Brigid Passes

In this poem by Winifred Letts, the author alludes to the association of the feast of Saint Brigid with the heralding of the Irish spring:

Saint Brigit Passes

I thought the winter lingered still

So harsh and humoursome the wind,

But Brigit of the blessed name

Has passed and left the lambs behind.

Their little voices made a song

That drove the winter from my mind.

At Barnacullia all the whins

Were bright to see as guinea gold,

And in Kilternan primroses

Peeped kindly at me from the mould;

Glencullen's larches showed young green

That took the malice from the cold.

In Enniskerry I have watched

How April's fingers touched the trees,

And by the Dargle seen the ground

Grow azure with anemones.

The tiny wren upon the bough

Singing rebuked my heart's unease.

Trias Thaumaturga