Ireland's Eye

A DREAR , waste, island rock, by tempests worn,
Gnawed by the seas and naked to the sky,
It bears the name it hath for ages borne
Of " Ireland's Eye."

It looks far eastward o'er the desert foam;
Round it the whimpering, wild sea-voices cry.
The gulls and cormorants have their stormy home
On Ireland's Eye.

A strange and spectral head the gaunt crag rears,
And ghostly seem the wings that hover nigh.
Are these dim rains the phantoms of old tears
In Ireland's Eye?

The tide ebbs fast, the wind droops low to-day,
Feeble as dying hate that hates to die.
Blow, living airs, and blow the mists away
From Ireland's Eye.
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