Crossways — The Meditation of the Old Fisherman
| You waves, though you dance by my feet like children at play, |
| Though you glow and you glance, though
you purr and you dart; |
| In the Junes that were warmer than these are, the waves were more gay, |
| When
I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. |
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| The herring are not in the tides as they were of old; |
| My
sorrow! for many a creak gave the creel in the cart |
| That carried the take to Sligo town to be sold, |
| When
I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. |
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| And ah, you proud maiden, you are not so fair when his
oar |
| Is heard on the water, as they were, the proud and apart, |
| Who paced in the eve by the nets on the
pebbly shore, |
| When I was a boy with never a crack in my heart. |