It is but a little thing to sit here in the silence and the dark: For I remember the blazing noon when I saw Oona the White: I remember the day when we sailed the Moyle in our skin-built barque; And I remember when Oona's lips were on mine in the heart of the night. So it is a little thing to sit here, hearing nought, seeing nought: When the dawn breaks they will hurry me hence to the new-dug grave: It will be quiet there, if it be true what the good Colum has taught, And I shall hear Oona's voice as a sleeping seal hears the moving wave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I DO NOT LOVE THEE by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON ON A FLY DRINKING FROM HIS CUP by WILLIAM OLDYS BLIND OLD MILTON by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN ASPIRATIONS: 2 by MATHILDE BLIND OUR LADY OF CHANGE by BERTON BRALEY KENTUCKY BABE by RICHARD HENRY BUCK MELISSA by ROBERT LOUIS BURGESS |