in that small
parcel of ground
which became my
soul and my being
when I was ill
a whole world
learns the patience
and the vibrant
thrill of nature
as after rain on
rain now ceased
but for a nether
moment never
leashed I watch the
elder tree unbow
untwist beneath
a wind no longer
felt and as the
leaflet drops so
tender flow upon
your eyelids so to
go I feel the grip
of slender thoughts
that from Tibradden's
febrile brow flow forth
into tumultuous skies
as ravens creek their
homewards cry beneath
the starborne cygnus
sky the wild geese
fly o why o why
doth herein lie
the opening doors
of heaven
