THE PRIEST'S LAKE

Beneath the bridge, with noisy rout,
The Atlantic fills the quiet lake ...
A pause ... a turn ... then with a shout
Seaward the brimming waters break.
"Open thy gates," the Spirit saith,
"O Soul! My wave thy shore shall sweep,
Then back across the pause of death
Draw thee with shoutings to the deep!"
Ardbear, Connemara.

SONNETS