19. 1912 The Home Land

There are a couple of wistful writings in F.A.I.s book that refer to Ireland. As we know he was born in London and I don’t know for certain if he actually ever visited Ireland at all.
It is possible that he was there during the 1891 census as he and his family have not been traced on the mainland to date!
However, his sister Ivy seemed to have settled there circa 1909 – 1916 taken from the information on postcards we have discovered.

Other indicators of an Irish connection, date back before F.A.I.s birth. The photographs (on this site) of his grandparents and his French Aunt Matilda were taken in Dublin C1860s.
His grandparent’s photographs were taken at the Adolphe Drawing Room, First Floor Gallery, 75, Grafton Street, Dublin and Matilda’s was taken at Lauder Brothers in Dublin.

Even further back is this photo.

It has written on the back ‘Sidney George West Wicklow, Caisarwitch’ (I suspect that it should read Cesarwitch!). A well dressed and obviously educated man, with him holding a book, maybe he was a preacher of some sorts or in true family tradition a Professor/ Master.

I, nor my fellow family hunters, have been able to identify who Sidney is just yet, (because as everyone that takes up family history research will know this all takes some time and effort to link people together) but it is strongly believed he is the paternal Great Grandfather of F.A.I. as his photo was found in the same collection along side the C1860’s photos (thanks to CS and family for their find. CS had discovered these photos some time ago but had no idea who the people were, we met through a genealogy site discovering that his GG grandfather and mine were brothers and as they say the rest is history!)

So here is the first poem about Ireland:

The Home Land

I toil and I spin but there’s no one here who cares
Oh the smell of the peat and the feel of Irish air
The green of the woods and the river running through
And the kind eyes the true eyes of Irish blue
It’s little he knew when she begged me to stay
That my heart was saying yes when my lips were saying no
Oh the gold of the sun as we stood alone we two
And the kind eyes of Irish blue
There’s naught that loves me here but over the sea
There’s a green little valley that is calling still to me
Just a patch of furlye and woodland with the
River running through and the
Kind eyes the true eyes of Irish blue

F.A.I