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. Autumn by the Sea
2. An Exile
3. Ballad of Protestant's Leap
4. Off Connemara
5. Kilmelchedor

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