Celtic Trees Mystery Cache

==Cache is not at posted coordinates==

When Erin first rose from the dark swelling flood,

God bless’d the green island and saw it was good;

The em’rald of Europe, it sparkled and shone,

In the ring of the world the most precious stone.

In her sun, in her soil, in her station thrice blest,

With her back towards Britain, her face to the West,

Erin stands proudly insular, on her steep shore,

And strikes her high harp ‘mid the ocean’s deep roar.

William Drennan