V. On The Sea-Cliff

(In Ireland)

Ruins of a church with its miraculous well, O’er which the Christ, a squat-limbed dwarf of stone, Great-eyed, and huddled on his cross, has known The sea-mists and the sunshine, stars that fell And stars that rose, fierce winter’s chronicle, And centuries of dead summers. From his throne Fronting the dawn the elf has ruled alone, And saved this region fair from pagan hell. Turn! June’s great joy abroad; each bird, flower, stream Loves life, loves love; wide ocean amorously Spreads to the sun’s embrace; the dulse-weeds sway, The glad gulls are afloat. Grey Christ to-day Our ban on thee! Rise, let the white breasts gleam, Unvanquished Venus of the northern sea!