The Cliffs of Dun Angus
I’ve been to the Cliffs at Dun Angus
And walked the ramparts of the old hill-fort,
Watched, as the falcons fly from their nests
At the sunset off Ireland’s western shore.
Where Celts of old stood have I strolled
And gazed out upon the stony hills and rocky rills
That pile the land up before the cliffs
And plunge into the Atlantic’s wine-dark deep.
I stood at the edge of Dun Angus
And looked out Westward, toward the beach
Of ancient, pearly sands in Faerie-lands
Far, far across the sad breach of time.