From the red dusk to the red dawn,
’Neath the sea-pinks and tangled rose.
But sorrow bides with us and ill,
And stress and sacrifice and loss,
And we must strive to meet them still
Climbing the weary “Way of the Cross.”
[p 20]
]THE ISLE OF DOOM
Out of the mist off Galway shore,
Out of the morning mist,
Rose the island of Hy Brasail