In Galway gone, an age ago
where crumbling stones did meet the sea,
I walked where lonely mists did blow,
and in the shadows found I thee
Cathedral bells in darkness rung
and echoed down the slick night street;
no friendly footsteps on stones sung
among the kiss of falling sleep
But in my cold and naked palm
which scraped upon the mossy stones,
I felt the whisper of your psalm-
in empty hand, I held your own
