...But men say,father,that ere the end
he went where no one has been.
I would hear you tell me, father,
of the last land you have seen.
"In my mind I steer and can find the Star
and the parting of the sees,
and the breath as sweet and keen.
That was born up on the breeze as death.
But where they bloom, those flowers fair,
in what air or land they grow.
What words, beyond this world I hear?
If you would seek to know,
in a boat far a float
you must labor in the see."
In Ireland over wood and mire
in the tower tall and grey,
the bell of Cluan ferta
was tolling in green Galway.
And come to his life's end
under a rain cloud sky,
journeying whence no ship returns...
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