is Thy grace I am hoping for.

I am in age and my shape is withered; many a day I have been going
astray. When I was young my deeds were evil; I delighted greatly in
quarrels and rows. I liked much better to be playing or drinking on
a Sunday morning than to be going to Mass. I was given to great oaths,
and I did not let lust or drunkenness pass me by.

The day has stolen away and I have not raised the hedge, until the
crop in which Thou didst take delight is destroyed. I am a worthless
stake in the corner of a hedge, or I am like a boat that has lost its
rudder, that would be broken against a rock in the sea, and that would
be drowned in the cold waves.




_His Answer When Some Stranger Asked Who He Was_


I am Raftery the poet, full of hope and love; my eyes without light,
my gentleness without misery. Going west on my journey with the light
of my heart; weak and tired to the end of my road.

I am now, and my back to a wall, playing music to empty pockets.




_A Blessing on Patrick Sarsfield_