Now in the east the morning dies,
 The full light of the splendid sun
Strikes downward on our lifted eyes
 And the long journey is begun:
  Across the shattered walls
  A voice prophetic calls,
  With tumult and with laughter
  We rise and follow after.

The modern world, immense and wide,
 Awaits us, huger than before,
With new stars swimming in the Void,
 And Science broadening evermore
  The sweep of the limitless Vast,
  The Past is dead and past;
  Yet through it all forever
  One voice is silent never.

Pity me on my pilgrimage to Loch Derg!
O King of the churches and the bells —
Bewailing your sores and your wounds,
But not a tear can I squeeze from my eyes!

Not moisten an eye
After so much sin!
Pity me, O King! What shall I do
With a heart that seeks only its own ease?

Without sorrow or softening in my heart,
Bewailing my faults without repenting them!
Patrick the high priest never thought
That he would reach God in this way.

O lone son of Calpurn — since I name him —
O Virgin Mary, how sad is my lot! —

A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love:
The folk who are buying and selling,
The clouds on their journey above
The cold wet winds ever blowing,
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,
Threaten the head that I love.

Pitty Patty Polt!
Shoe the wild colt,
Here a nail,
There a nail,
Pitty Patty Polt!

Pitter-patter, hear it raining?
Slow at first, then faster, faster.
Put on your raincoat,
Hold up your umbrella,
Pull on your Wellingtons
And splash in the puddles.

S UMMER

Pitiless heat from heaven pours
By day, but nights are cool;
Continual bathing gently lowers
The water in the pool;
The evenings bring a charming peace:
For summer-time is here
When love that never knows surcease,
Is less imperious, dear.

Yet love can never fall asleep;
For he is waked to-day
By songs that all their sweetness keep

I ONCE into a forest far
My maiden went to seek,
And fell upon her neck, when: " Ah! "
She threaten'd, " I will shriek! "

Then cried I haughtily: " I'll crush
The man that dares come near thee! "
" Hush! " whisper'd she: " My loved one, hush!
Or else they'll overhear thee! "

A Pit—but Heaven over it—
And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad,
And yet a Pit—
With Heaven over it.

To stir would be to slip—
To look would be to drop—
To dream—to sap the Prop
That holds my chances up.
Ah! Pit! With Heaven over it!

The depth is all my thought—
I dare not ask my feet—
'Twould start us where we sit
So straight you'd scarce suspect
It was a Pit—with fathoms under it—
Its Circuit just the same.
Seed—summer—tomb—
Whose Doom to whom?

The Piper's music fills the street,
The Piper's music makes the heat
Hotter by ten degrees:
Hand us a Sonnet, dear Mathias,
Hand us a Sonnet cool and dry as
Your very best, and we shall freeze.

Piped a tiny voice hard by,
Gay and polite, a cheerful cry,
" Chic-chicadee-dee! " Saucy note
Out of a sound heart and a merry throat,
As if it said, " Good day, good sir.
Fine afternoon, old passenger!
Happy to meet you in these places
When January brings new faces! "