The murmuring tide foams slowly up the sands, Behind a veil of gold lost Ireland lies, And with the sunset in his yearning eyes Alone on Colum-kil Columba stands; He frees the white bird from his tender hands, Beyond a changing violet sea it flies, A streak of mist against the burnished skies It vanishes in far green Western lands. The tides still whisper through the waning light, Wings still find rest along that wave-worn place, But he will climb the cold gray rocks no more; And yet ye know that from a fairer height He watches across deeps of star-filled space The well-loved outline of his Irish shore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: THE ROAD TO BUFFALO by KAREN SWENSON TO MUSIC [TO BECALM HIS FEVER] by ROBERT HERRICK BRONZE TRUMPETS AND SEA WATER; ON TURNING LATIN VERSE INTO ENGLISH by ELINOR WYLIE AN EXPOSTULATION WITH LOVE by PHILIP AYRES THE HAWAIIAN FLIGHT SQUADRON by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN THE AUTHOR'S LAST WORDS TO HIS STUDENTS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FOURTH ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |