University of Virginia Library


28

The fairest island on the lake
Is the island of the nuns;
And I love it for the sake
Of those persecuted ones.
Lonely now, and desolate,
Rise the hills of Inishail;
And a sea-gull and his mate
Round it daily do bewail.
Flying round it to and fro,
Making some unhappy search,
Round about the tombs they go,
Round about the ruined church.