Bring me home, oh roaming wave
to breathe my last by the shore.
Lay blooms on my gloaming grave;
wildflowers, that I adore.
In youth I raced the ocean,
my wild heart set to wander.
Dusk shadowed my devotion,
so on death I now ponder.
Ireland waits, oh fair isle,
beyond this froth of sea foam.
Gone are days of no care, while
mortality brings me home.
© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart
From the book Reflections of Poetry