That cold clear summer's morning I beheld thee
Still as glass beneath a sky clear and fair
Numb with cold I stood transfixed by dawning day
And the weariness of those long cycled miles
Under the beating sun, and a fulsome moon
Had soaked my bones with sweet Irish marsh marrow
And melted my heavy heart with whispering rhymes
Lying on fresh-cut hay when weary eyes gave way
And in my dreams I dreamt only of thee.