How far? The shadows on the sea:
The pools of Irish light and rain,
The Dales, the Fells, the Lakes, the sky,
And heaven burning through those eyes.
The sodden feet where dotterel land,
The pounding heart where plover call,
The simple path, the vision scraped,
The buzzard circling overhead.
How far? From Israel to the mill,
From handloom to the broken hand,
And further still, the trees and hills:
He saw them, feared them, felled them, climbed.
How far? Beyond the passions’ reach:
As far as words and mysteries teach.