Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CLARE COAST, by EMILY LAWLESS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CLARE COAST, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: See, cold island, we stand
Subject(s): Ireland


Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,
Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor,
Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races,
And winds, austere and pure:
Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,
Hills of home! and to hear again the call;
Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,
And hear no more at all.
Put my soul in a bottle that the north wind may find it,
Give it to the white-handed reacher of the sea,
And let it be scattered like a seagull, when behind it
Whistles the wind of thee.
Hills of home! Revisited Hills of home! The above is written
By a wayfarer on a stormy sea;
In the waste of waters worn and bitten,
Day and night, remembering thee!






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