Poem by Clinton Scollard

Etching at Night

I wandered in the streets of Galway-town,
When night had let her dusky curtains down,
And in a doorway, tall and fair and slight,
Framed by an inner beam of golden light,
Beheld a maiden of madonna face,
Pensive and sad, yet with a nameless grace,
Presage, I thought, of the unfolding years,
That hide some things that are too deep for tears!

1. The Hunter
2. The Mist and the Sea
3. A Sea Rover
4. Dawn, the Harvester
5. Mist at Sea

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