Delightful to me to be on an island hill, on the crest of a rock, that I might
often watch the quiet sea;
That I might watch the heavy waves above the bright water, as they chant
music to their Father everlastingly;
That I might watch its smooth, bright-bordered shore, no gloomy pastime, that
I might hear the cry of the strange birds, a pleasing sound;
That I might hear the murmur of the long waves against the rocks, that I might
hear the sound of the sea, like mourning beside a grave;
That I might watch the splendid flocks of birds over the well-watered sea, that I
might see its mighty whales, the greatest wonder.
That I might watch its ebb and flood in their course, that my name should be – it
is a secret that I tell – “he who turned his back upon Ireland;”
That I might have a contrite heart as I watch, that I might repent my many
sins, hard to tell;
That I might bless the Lord who rules all things, heaven with its splendid host,
earth, ebb, and flood.