Wee dovey singing in tree,
The sun shall soon rise
Greater than love,
But not for me.

Red deer on the fray moors,
The winds embrace you
For you are rich,
But I am poor.

Wildflowers all bright in gang,
Good earth psalms you
Deep in rootings,
I never sang.

Dark feathered crow moaning,
I have suffered mean loss,
My truest love gone,
Now I must rove.

Out on the breakers
Eyes in the sea are watching me
But seals never speak

The sea birds are gulling
Always they argue over shells
I know how they feel

Long across the heath
The piebald mountains cradle me
But snows, they only whisper

The stationary stone village
Is thatched in chalk and grey wood
Happy in branch without trees

Eye in the sky is my mood
And I slip lazing into blue,
The darkest true of your
Eyes, who cast me away,
So unmerciful, in the tides,
Sometimes the moon locks,
Is master of mine and aye,
Of she am I made.  

Tonight, as you held me,
So white was my spirit,
Luminous as Lazarus' grave,
As the holey silence, some
Wraith of looks in the sky,
Sometimes the moon shows,
Wears my face and I hers,
Of she am I made?

The night is brisk and raw,
So heated am I next to you,
Ghostly sad and beaming
With joy at the indigo sheet
Of floating stars on the sea,
You hold my heart like faith,
Nebulous as moon in ocean,
Of these I am made.

Kind boys,
Others I have known,
Come to me with glee,
Not like you,
With eyes that do quarrel
And suit me so unsuiting,
My skin bared.

Kind lads,
Complement my ginger hair,
My eyes, green as May grass,
Not like you,
Brazen lad so tall and stark,
With eyes blue as sheer cold,
My flesh shivers.

Kind souls,
Wish to court me and understand
Why my eyes askance are waiting,
Wishing for you,
Something unbridled in dark wilds,
A call of the glens to my blood only,
My insides craving.

The sky veils in a tear
As the misbegotten lover is still
In a tremble of vasted nothings
Even airs unsembled.

The rain comes going
With a lost breath settled sailing
And with eyes grey as regretting
Sailed skies cry rowing.

Now love is on a wake
And the clouds silently scream
To wait in trains of moon dream
White as a pearly gate.

Your Raven black hair
Glistens in spotted sun,
Is lighter than air, combing
Through my weightless lungs,

Your ocean blue eyes
Are craven to my desires,
Rich and salty with true light
I pray our skin sets each to fire,

Your touch is want of mine,
My body craves loudest flame,
Hear my breaths, seethe alive,
Our heats frozen, love untamed.

I patched the sky in wishes,
White birds flew by.
I prayed to rain in stitches,
Puddles bubbled alive.
I saw a lone flower drinking,
And said I see you shine.
I prayed to the stars blinking,
And offered my blood to moon.

.
Oh Girleen, leave that dark, ****-covered rock

And watch no more the waves white-capped with foam                                

Nor listen to their sighs; they only mock

Your lonely sorrowed heart; now come back home.



I don’t watch each wave that sweeps and falls,

I don’t heed the sobbing of the sea –

I’m listening for my own true lover’s call

There, can you hear now? He’s calling me….



Ah Girleen, sure it’s only the wild, wild wind,

A-wailing o’er the waters its sad song;

Put all these thoughts of him far from your mind-

To our own good god alone, the dead belong.



Ye lie, he’s mine, for from the grey sea-mist.

Yesterday evening when the sun sunk low

He came and took me in his arms and kissed my mouth

Just like he used to, long ago.



And so, I’ll not go home, but here I’ll stay

For maybe, in the smoky gloamin’ dim,

He’ll come again out o’er the showers o’ spray

And take me o’er the ragin’ seas with him.

Off lone island bay,
Outlander waves are praying,
Curly in their white caps.

Cars and lorries are creeping
Into a village still sleeping,
Coming in from nowhere.

Stones have things to voice,
There are stars of rock fish
Deep in bays with the moon.

Beyond night dream are lochs,
Darks and colds of longings,
Mountains old as confusion.

Birds chime their mouth musics,
Churlishly sent over moorlands,
All questions ring unanswered.

On broke beaches are notions
Of days strung to faraways
And sands bleached ancestral.

Off lone island bay,
Simple comings, waves, goings,
After sly moon, sun has its say.