Poem by Denis Florence MacCarthy

Devotion

When I wander by the ocean,
When I view its wild commotion,
Then the spirit of devotion
  Cometh near;
And it fills my brain and bosom,
  Like a fear!

I fear its booming thunder,
Its terror and its wonder,
Its icy waves, that sunder
  Heart from heart;
And the white host that lies under
  Makes me start.

Its clashing and its clangour
Proclaim the Godhead's anger--
I shudder, and with langour
  Turn away;
No joyance fills my bosom
  For that day.

When I wander through the valleys,
When the evening zephyr dallies,
And the light expiring rallies
  In the stream,
That spirit comes and glads me,
  Like a dream.

The blue smoke upward curling,
The silver streamlet purling,
The meadow wildflowers furling
  Their leaflets to repose:
All woo me from the world
  And its woes.

The evening bell that bringeth
A truce to toil outringeth,
No sweetest bird that singeth
  Half so sweet,
Not even the lark that springeth
  From my feet.

Then see I God beside me,
The sheltering trees that hide me,
The mountains that divide me
  From the sea:
All prove how kind a Father
  He can be.

Beneath the sweet moon shining
The cattle are reclining,
No murmur of repining
  Soundeth sad:
All feel the present Godhead,
  And are glad.

With mute, unvoiced confessings,
To the Giver of all blessings
I kneel, and with caressings
  Press the sod,
And thank my Lord and Father,
  And my God.

1. Waiting for the May

Robert Frost Devotion ("The heart can think of no devotion")

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